


The Things We Lost In The Fire

by LOvELeSsAfFAiRs



Series: Blind Trust & Twisted Love [1]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Astrid bonds with a Night Fury, Astrid-centric, Every fifth chapter will be an Interlude, F/F, F/M, Father-Son conflicts, Fix-It of Sorts, Forced peace, HICCSTRID IS NOT ENDGAME, HTTYD redo, Heathstrid, Heatstrid, Hiccstrid - Freeform, Interludes will contain someone else's POV, Love turned into friendship, Mostly Astrid POV, Original Character-centric, Plotting, Presumed deaths, Reluctant dictatorship, Sorry Not Sorry, Stormfly & Astrid friendship will remain, Timeline will be different, Viking-Dragon conflicts, friendship turned into love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:02:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9510803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LOvELeSsAfFAiRs/pseuds/LOvELeSsAfFAiRs
Summary: Of tradition and of history, of instinct and of fear. Of devotion and of friendship - when two species come near. And when scales of ebony night, brush against flesh of smooth white - when slits of amethyst ire, lock with eyes of blazing sapphire: truths will be revealed, and secrets will be kept - as four drown in fire, but only two surface. Notch your arrows, and let them fly. Our strong Valkyrie...is this goodbye?orToothless isn't the only Night Fury out there, and Astrid can't decide between befriending her own Unholy Offspring of Lightning and Death itself or letting her people's traditions consume her. Hiccup helps her decide, but her choice has consequences...tragic ones.





	1. 1.x Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS HEATSTRID! I will say nothing more about it other than this - it is what it is. Anyway, I would like to thank you all for clicking on this story. There will be quite some OC’s in this story but most of them are dragons so there’s really nothing to worry about there. Some of the OC’s that appear here will also appear in other stories of mine, but there’s no connection between them in this story and them in any of my other fics (unless mentioned). The main P.O.V. will be alternated quite frequently between Astrid and my main OC. With that being said, this story is Astrid centric (and OC centric) but that doesn’t mean that I won’t include the other characters. I’m already thinking of a sequel to this story, but I’ll talk more about that towards the end of this fic. I’ve made up my own names for each dragon breed (to be used for the dragons’ P.O.V.) and here is the list:
> 
> Night Fury - Nightcrawler  
> Gronckle - Rock Eater  
> Monstrous Nightmare - Fire Scaler  
> Terrible Terror - Scavenger  
> Deadly Nadder - Preener  
> Hideous Zippleback - Twin Spitter  
> Changewings - Illusion  
> Smothering Smokebreath - Smoke Billower  
> Rumblehorn - Stone Hide  
> Red Death - the Mother/Her/the Queen  
> Skrill - Lightning Splitter  
> Typhoomerang - Scorch Marker  
> Stormcutter - Cloud Cutter  
> Razorwhip - Sharpslicer  
> Thunderdrum - Tidal Blaster  
> Death Song - Kin Eater  
> Boneknapper - Bonestripper  
> Snow Wraith - Frostbite
> 
> I’ll update the list more as I continue the story, but for now, that’s all I’ve got regarding dragon breed names. Also, I made it so that Night Furies age more rapidly on the outside than most other dragons, so they could be a teenager but could look like a full grown adult. Their aging system goes like this:
> 
> Birth - 2 Weeks: Hatchling/Adolescent  
> 2 Weeks - 6 Months: Teenager  
> 6 Months - 5 Years: Young Adult  
> 5 Years - 15 Years: Full Grown Adult (Prime)  
> 15 Years - 30 Years: Elder  
> 30 Years - 60 Years: Ancient  
> 60 Years - Until death: Legendary

I wish I were anywhere but here.

 

The cold air nips at my scales, making me shiver as I start pumping my flame inside of me. Smoke billows out of my nostrils and the corners of my maw as I try to desperately warm myself up. The other dragons around me do the same, their chests heaving and glowing with the dull tint of their fire, but even while surrounded by the frigid night air, they stay focused on our raiding point. It’s a rather large viking village, peppered with small wooden nests and other human possessions.

 

What do its occupants call it again? Oh yeah: _Berk._

 

The dragons of my division hang back in the shadows, their wing strokes quiet as they linger just above the surface of the ocean, keeping out of sight of the vikings ahead of us. I let my claws graze the ocean surface as I fly forward, sea salt spraying up lightly and splattering across my underbelly as the water ripples below me. A sharp intake of breath brings the scent of the sea to the roof of my maw and I taste it, my blood rushing at the smell of fresh cod.

 

I huff though, blowing the smell away. I don’t have time to fantasize about food.

 

Instead, I throw a shrill warble over my shoulder. _::We’re nearing the island, be ready::_ Silence immediately overcomes my division of dragons, only to be filled by the still beating of our wings. The island comes closer into view and I hum. _::Just like last time. Toughlump, lead your pack to the west. Firestar, take yours to the east. My pack - we fly above::_ I swoop upwards, watching as Toughlump and Firestar take their small group of dragons away.

 

Toughlump is a Rock Eater: her thick hide a dark brown that blends in just right with the darkness of the night. Her small wings buzz with each beat, and the rest of the dragons following her use the noise as a cover for their own wing strokes. I avert my gaze to Firestar, a smaller female Fire Scaler. She has blood red scales tinted with speckles of black, bright orange cresting around her eyes, the front of her muzzle, and under her wings.

 

I can feel the presence of my part of the division behind me and I sail forward, taking cover higher in the dark sky as my dragons follow. I watch the others below me with a flickering gaze, making sure that they’re in position. My ear flaps flicker ever so slightly as I pick up the swooshing of the Nightcrawler flying above me, keeping his distance even though I can feel his gaze looking over all the dragons just as intently as mine.

 

He’s the last dragon of my division - mysterious and distanced. No one's ever really seen him before, he keeps to himself and sticks to the shadows, talking to no one. He’s like a soldier: following the Mother’s orders without complaint and watching over the other dragons like their his own hatchlings, but he’s never interacted with any of them. All anyone's ever seen of him are his eyes, sharp green shards of glass that glow in the dark night.

 

I feel my scales prickle uneasily as I watch him fly around in the night sky, only keeping up with his quick movements by the blacking out of stars every time he passes in front of them.  No one else can identify what breed of dragon he is, but I know, I can see it in his eyes. He’s a Nightcrawler - like me. It’s a rare breed as it is, and we’re most likely the last of our kind. Nightcrawlers never flock, and only stay with another of their kind when they’re hatchlings.

 

I wonder if that’s why he keeps away from me.

 

A low hum in my mind makes my ear flaps perk up, my attention momentarily drawn away from the Nightcrawler. _::My pack is ready::_ It’s Toughlump, her voice low and gentle, like a wise elder. Soon after, Firestar confirms that her pack is also ready, and I snort in confirmation as I too connect my thought link with them, humming lowly as my tail swishes slowly behind me. _::My pack is ready. We attack on my signal::_

 

I quickly connect my thought link with my whole division, which is actually quite hard. Some dragons aren’t as mentally strong as others, and when they try to use their links for a long period of time or attempt to spread them too far, they fall into a fit of delusions and sickness. That’s why some dragons don’t communicate using their links. But since I’ve been leading a division since I was practically a hatchling, I’ve had to learn how to stretch my links both far and wide.

 

Now it’s as easy as instinct.

 

As my thought link connects to the minds of all the dragons in my division, I can start to hear ghostly whispers in the back of my head: their thoughts. As my link is fully accepted by the others the whispers explode into the racing thoughts of my dragons, their words jumbled and twisted and _loud._ Individually, they can only hear my thoughts, but I can hear _all_ of theirs. My head starts to throb as a dull pain enters my skull, and I wince in protest.

 

 _::Be quiet::_ I snap at them. _::I need room in my head to think too::_ The loud ruckus filling my mind suddenly runs quiet, and a faint buzz in the back of my head is all I need to know that they’re still connected to my link and haven’t separated. I give myself a good shake, snorting as hot smoke buffs out from my nostrils. _::Alright then. Firestar, lead your dragons in first: distract the vikings. Toughlump, your pack goes for the food. I’ll lead my group to attack from above::_

 

 _::Got it::_ Toughlump replies, Firestar quick on her paws with a curt, _::They won’t know what hit them::_ I snort at her words. _::They never do::_ My expression remains impassive even though my tone is humorous, and my ear flaps swivel to the side as I catch the quiet snickers coming from my division at my quip. I don't know why, but I suddenly look up, letting a low growl rumble from deep within my chest as my eyes lock onto the flying silhouette of the Nightcrawler.

 

 _::Nightcrawler, I need you to take out those catapults immediately, no waiting this time. I want this raid to be quick, in and out::_ There’s only silence, but after what seems like eons I hear a low growl of confirmation from above me. My pack looks up wildly, their ears pricked. Mine shoot up to point at the skies too - that’s the first time any of us have ever heard him talk. I stare dumbly at the dark sky, but soon shake it off. We have a Viking Nest to raid.

 

With my eyes roving over the wooden nests perched on the island, I take a deep breath and throw my head back, unleashing a thunderous roar as the dragons around me go into a blur of motion. Wings beating furiously, hearts pumping, breaths loud and ragged - it all rushes at me, filling my senses as my ear flaps swirl and swivel wildly. My eyes catch sight of Firestar and I watch as she leads her pack on the attack of the Viking Nest.

 

Her dragons spew out fire from their maws and flame the land, buying time for Toughlump and her pack to snatch up sheep and fish. Vikings come pouring out of the largest wooden nest resting at the high point of their land, their beefy pink paws holding weapons as their removable horns cover their heads. My ear flaps fall flat against my skull as they try to mimic our roars with battle cries of their own.

 

Many of them start swinging around their sharp blades, and I lift my snout to sniff the air. My eyes shrink into slits. It's unnatural how the vikings don't release a fear scent when they see us, only the hatchlings, and sometimes not even them. A loud roar interrupts my thoughts and I whip my head to the side, my eyes catching sight of a Rock Eater from Firestar’s pack attacking a younger adult viking as a distraction.

 

A group of Preeners swiftly make off with prey in the grip of their claws not to far away and I croon, happy to see my dragons working together so perfectly. You know, if the Mother weren’t around, and we were all part of our own Nest, we could be pretty dangerous. All of us are already expert hunters and fighters, and some of the females could be Nursery Queens while others could act as Healers - No. I growl lightly at myself, rebuking the thought.

 

I need to stop lying to myself like that. We’ll never free ourselves from Her hold, our hope is just something for Her to crush. All previous thoughts soon vanish from my mind as a shrieking whistle slices through the air, echoed by an eerie whoosh as the Nightcrawler goes into a deadly dive, a purplish blue plasma blast shooting from his maw. My ear flaps go erect as my nose twitches, my eyes following the trail of the plasma blast as it hits its target with deadly precision.

 

The wooden structure of the catapult immediately crumbles, splintering into small pieces as the vikings who were on it jump off with loud roars of anger and urgency, some landing in the dark ocean water below and bellowing at the ice cold feeling of it as they swim to their shores. I snort, fog gathering in front of me as I let out a single warble of laughter. If we weren’t actually fighting for our lives, this whole thing might be a little amusing.

 

I divert my attention to the Nightcrawler, the sound of his wings slicing through the air growing fainter as he swoops away from the now destroyed catapult and back to the safety of the dark skies. Not a second later, he turns sharply and makes his way towards the second structure. It’s empty, with no vikings manning it and no rocks set in its grip to shoot at us. My tail thrashes in finality: this raid will be over soon.

 

I look away from the Nightcrawler, leaving him to his work as I shoot off higher into the sky. Cold air rushes at me, invisible claws raking across my scales as I purr in delight, closing my eyes. I only open them once more as I spin in midair and do a dive, unfurling my wings only slightly so that I balance myself out. Opening my maw wide I quickly scan the Viking Nest, trying to find a suitable target. My eyes land on a nearby catapult, still standing.

 

Usually it’s the Nightcrawler who takes the catapults out, but I did say I wanted this raid to be quick, so I might as well help him pick up the pace. I can feel heat growing in the back of my throat, purple tinted smoke slowly billowing out from the corners of my maw and my flaring nostrils. A high pitched whistle starts up, and my ear flaps twitch as I hear the same sound come from the Nightcrawler not to far away.

 

The vikings scream a warning, ducking as they throw their large paws over their head and close their eyes. I snap my wings open, catching air as the plasma blast leaves my maw in a hot explosion of purple fire. Twisting my body around I swoop back up into the night sky, my tongue lolling out of the side of my maw as I press my wings back against my flank, snapping them open when I’m a few feet above the ocean.

 

Tilting my body slightly the tip of my wing slices through the dark water below me, the reflection of the moon rippling and becoming blurred. I look around, my eyes trying to locate the Nightcrawler.  A snapping sound makes my ear flaps go erect, and I whip my head to the side. I just barely catching sight of a web of vines as it shoots out from nowhere, entangling the Nightcrawler as he lets out a surprised shriek.

 

I let out one of my own, my eyes wide as my wings flap numbly by my sides, and before I know it, I’m surrounded by water. My roars are muffled by the cold liquid, small bubbles escaping my maw and surrounding me like an annoying flock of Scavengers. Dragons can breathe under water, but not for very long. I force myself to calm down, and soon, I’m following the trail of bubbles up to the surface.

 

As I break through the surface I try flapping my wings, pushing off with a strong wing stroke as I burst into the sky. Droplets roll and tumble off my black scales, the cold air freezing the water on my claws and the tips of my wings. I shake it off, pumping my fire inside of me as I heat myself up. Finally, I stop flying, hovering in place with a bewildered and dumbfounded expression on my muzzle. My eyes find the place in the sky where he was downed.

 

Never - _ever,_ had a viking even come _close_ to shooting him down.

 

A flash of movement catches my eye. On the edge of the island stands a viking hatchling, his small pink paws thrown up in the air. My ear flaps rotate so that I can can hear his happy chirps, a dumb grin on his flat muzzle and his green eyes glowing. The sight makes me snarl, my top lip pulling back as my sharp fangs glint dangerously in the moonlight. I catch sight of an odd device in front of him.

 

I have...no idea what it is, but it’s the only weapon pointed anywhere near where the Nightcrawler was - so the hatchling has to be the one who shot him down! I growl loudly, heat once again building up at the back of my throat. Smoke billows out of my nostrils, seeping out from the cracks in between my fangs as anger boils inside my blood. I swear that I see red, my nostrils flaring. I hate him, I hate that he hurt one of my dragons, I want _to flame his face off!_

 

But I know I can’t.

 

Reluctantly, I clench my throat and let my plasma blast die out, quickly barking at the dragon nearest to me, which just so happens to be Firescale, a Fire Scaler. _::Take care of him::_ I snort, glaring at the hatchling. He follows my gaze and nods at me, swooping down towards the island as he creeps up on the young viking. I watch him as he comes up behind the hatchling, crushing his device as my ears flaps twitch at the sound of Firescale’s snarl.

 

I would love to stay and watch, but I have a Nightcrawler to find.

 

Turning away I shoot up into the sky, my wings slicing through the air as a low whistling sound echoes me. The ocean below me suddenly gives way to land, and I have to quickly flap my large wings so that I raise myself higher and don’t crash into the treetops. My eyes search the ground, the shrubs and foliage below me blurring into a sea of green as rabbits and squirrels dart across the land like fish. I snort in disdain, unsatisfied by what I see.

 

 _:Lots of good prey, but no dragon:_ I think to myself, angling my wings so that I can quickly twist around to start checking the other areas of the forest. I send my ear flaps rotating, swiveling from side to side wildly as I try to pick up on any hint that he’s close by. Tilting my wings I do a downwards swoop, trying to get closer to the ground so I can see everything better, but soon the tight knit position of the trees leave me with two choices: fly or land.

 

I quickly tuck my wings in at my sides, landing softly. I thrust my muzzle in the air, opening my maw as I taste the scents around me. My eyes widen as I sense an unfamiliar aroma, cold and musky, with a hint of ash and debri. I start running, leaping over bushes and fallen trees as I near a sudden slope. It’s a small one, but a tree right next to it is snapped in half, as if something fell on it. The ground in front of me is upturned and messy, loose branches and soil strewn everywhere.

 

I sniff again, and this time the scent is stronger, almost overwhelming. Slowly, I walk forward, one paw in front of the other. I crouch down low, tightening up my leg muscles as I leap over into a small clearing, gracefully landing on a large boulder without a sound. I almost gasp. He’s black - _pitch black_ \- like a dark shadow cut out from a smooth slab of ebony stone with his scales glinting in the rising sunlight.

 

His eyes suddenly snap open.

 

They’re like shards of clean cut ice piercing through my very soul, making my scales tingle uncomfortably. I can see his muscles ripple with every rise and fall of his broad chest, his thick wings tethered to his sides by the vines the hatchling shot at him, though I know that they’d be massive if unfurled. I drag my gaze up and down his body, taking in everything. This is the first time I’ve had the chance to _truly_ look at him.

 

His ear flaps are round and large, while my own are sharp - like spikes - and smaller. Mine also have choppy strips of dark purple covering them, with the tip of the knob like flaps sprinkling the rigid outline of my jaw tinted the same color. The spines littering his back are small and sharp, while my spines are crazy long and razor tipped. I’ve even been told that when I breathe my flame they actually pulse a blazing violet. Weird.

 

I tilt my head, noticing how the list of differences just seems to go on and on.

 

Reaching from just under my ear flaps, over my eyes, and to the tip of my snout are two lilac streaks. Coating my underbelly from my chest to the tip of my tail is a striking sea of amaranthine, splotches of violet also dotting the top half of my legs and tail. The bottom half of my wings look as if they’ve been dipped in mauve blood, while gruesome splatters of violaceous hover just inches above the marking.

 

He, on the other paw, has no markings. I squint my already sharp eyesight, catching the barely visible flash of a fiery azure glinting from off his scales, but that’s all I can see. I glance at his unsheathed claws, tilting my head downwards to catch sight of my own. I let them pop out of their sheathes, watching as the ebony black tips easily sink into the solid rock underneath me. My eyes dart to his tailfins, and I can feel my blood run cold at the sight.

 

His left tailfin is completely gone.

 

There are a few stubby bumps outlining where the tear is. Dried blood is already clotting over to seal off the wound, red staining the black scales of his tail and splattered across the ground in crimson speckles. I take in a sharp breath, and for the first time I notice the sour scent of blood that hangs in the air, and it makes my lungs sting. My eyes rove back up his body, my sharp vision suddenly just catching sight of the red that stains some parts the vines entangling his limbs.

 

Some of his ebony scales have cracked and ripped from where the vines are chafing against him too hard. And then it’s just as if everything comes rushing at me. Suddenly I can see scars, old and fresh that litter his body, one across the side of his neck, another curling around his hind leg, and a faint one hidden beneath a ridge under one of his wings. My stomach turns and I can feel my sharp claws dig into the rock below me.

 

I guess I should’ve expected that he would have wounds, old and new. I mean I do, from all the battles I’ve fought and the scuffles I’ve had to engage in to stay alive, but to see him like that - while held to the ground like one of the viking’s common cattle. It’s almost like a last showing, the fate of a dragon in all it’s majesty before it’s slaughtered. A low growl slips from my throat at the thought. The Nightcrawler looks at me, eyes wide, but emotionless.

 

He’s not scared, not hopeful, just blank - blank and dark, like the night skies he always flew in. But he won’t be able to fly anymore, I know that. His left tailfin is completely gone, and it’ll be decades before he can grow one back, so then what? He won’t be able to return to the Mother, so I guess that's good. But no downed dragon ever lasts long. He won’t survive without the ability to fly, especially not while so close to a Viking Nest with no means of escape.

 

I meet his eyes again, vibrant green clashing with pulsing purple. He snorts at me, nostrils flaring, and for the first time ever since he first joined my division, I see a sliver of fear worm its way into those piercing, forest green orbs. Taking a deep breath, I slowly jump off my rock and extend my thought link towards him. At first, he doesn’t notice, and the fact that I’d only ever talked to him through growling adds to the confused look that flickers across his muzzle.

 

After a second though, his eyes go wide.

 

I don’t exactly know what to expect of his response, but roaring in fury and snapping his razor sharp teeth at me isn’t it. Startled and driven by instinct I roar back, my eyes sharpening at the edges as I slash one of his ear flaps. He roars in pain, growling at me as blood drips from his ear. I snarl in his direction, my top lip pulling back grotesquely. I watch as a single trail of scarlet blood drips down his wound, winding around his muzzle until it dribbles down his jaw.

 

We stare at each other for a long while, our claws unsheathed as I spread my wings out in intimidation. Finally, I snort, the cold night air around me morphing into warm morning air that fogs in front of my muzzle. I try to connect my thought link to his again, but I can feel him resisting, and a low growl slips from the cracks in between his sharp fangs. I’m about to result to grunting and churring, but then the snapping of a twig makes both of our ear flaps shoot up.

 

I look over my shoulder, eyes narrowing as I start sniffing the air. My claws dig deep into the soil as a familiar scent suddenly strikes my tongue and fills my nostrils: viking. Without thinking, I dive behind a nearby bush, quickly hiding myself as I blend in with the foliage. My ear flaps prick as I hear the viking start to speak in its odd tongue. “ Oh wow, I-I...I did it! Oh I did it! This fixes everything! ” I hiss lowly at the viking’s familiar chirps. Oh I know _exactly_ who this is.

 

It’s the hatchling who shot the Nightcrawler down.

 

Tilting my muzzle upwards, I draw in a long breath of air, catching many different scents in the roof of my maw. Immediately, the aroma of woodland prey and sky animals fill my senses, the smell of sea salt and fish faint but there. I huff silently, blowing the smells away. The fresh fragrance of something different takes me by surprise: fear scent. It’s a sharp tang with a thick, sour undertone to it, and more surprisingly, it’s rolling off the flesh of the hatchling in waves.

 

I curl my tongue around it, thrusting it into my nostrils to get a better sniff of it. My eyes turn to slits as I blow the smell away, staring at the small hatchling. The others of his kind smell of blood and death and no fear, but not him. Why not him? I narrow my eyes in frustration, my claws digging deep into the earth as I paw at the ground impatiently. What is he? Not viking, he doesn’t smell nor look like them.

 

But I’ve seen him outside his den during the raids, his mother never hides him, and I’ve watched as his sire is forced to come to his many an aid when he’s in trouble. But he always causes so much destruction, with his long limbs and noisy movements. That’s always made me cautious, for surely he can not truly be that clumsy? My thoughts are halted as the hatchling positions his weapon at the Nightcrawler’s heart.

 

He flexes his stubby claws and puffs out his cheeks in...an attempt at intimidation?  He shakes his head, his shaggy head of odd fur flying everywhere in thick, auburn wisps. Is he trying to make himself seem bigger? I let out a low warble of interest, the flaps that sit flat against my neck flaring out and pressing against the backside of my jaw - trying to copy him. The movement makes the bushes surrounding me rustle, forcing me to go completely still, desperate to stay hidden.

 

Bringing the small blade above his head, the viking hatchling takes in a deep breath, his chest puffing out as he squeezes his eyes shut. I press myself flat against the ground, inching forward with my hind leg muscles bunched up, ready to pounce. If he wants that Nightcrawler, he’s going to have to go through me first. I let out a low growl as he brings the knife up even higher, getting ready to pierce through the Nightcrawler’s dark scales and stab flesh.

 

I get ready to leap, teeth bared and wings slowly expanding, when the hatchling suddenly...stops.

 

He’s in a still position, his face twisted up with conflicting emotions. My snarl falters as he lets his paws rest on his head, then slowly fall to his sides, the tip of his weapon no longer facing the Nightcrawler. My ear flaps shoot upwards as he speaks once more, his green eyes dulling as he turns away. “ I did this. ” I let my wings fall as they hit the ground with a quiet _thunk,_ my eyes widening in disbelief. _:What are you doing, hatchling:_

 

I follow his movements with my eyes when he suddenly stops, his paws clenching at his sides. My veins grow cold again. Will he turn back? Is he actually going to try to kill the Nightcrawler? I inch forward as the thought enters my mind, ready for anything as the tip of my ebony paw pokes out from under the thick bushes I’m hiding behind. The hatchling looks back at the bound dragon, his expression hidden from my gaze as his back of odd animal furs faces me.

 

He takes in a deep breath, sighing loudly. In a flash of movement he’s kneeled down before the Nightcrawler, weapon skimming over the black scales. My eyes widen and I almost screeched in surprise. How did he move so fast? I get ready to attack before my step falters, and once again the hatchling takes me by surprise. Instead of stabbing at the Nightcrawler, he cuts at the vines that bind him down, sawing through each one with quick movements.

 

The Nightcrawler’s eyes snap open, his dark iris slitted as his body tenses. What kind of viking would free him - the _Nightcrawler_ \- to play in this hunt little longer? I don’t think any of us understand what’s happening, but as soon as the last vine falls, the Nightcrawler pounces. A strangled cry slips past the hatchling’s maw, the back of his head cracking viciously against the dirt ground beneath him. It’s then that I jump out of my hiding place.

 

Letting out a high pitched growl, I raise my wings in a defensive position, lowering my head as my ear flaps twitch and swivel. The Nightcrawler whips his head in my direction, the growl seeping from the cracks in between his fangs seizing as his ear flaps flare out in a surprised fashion. But not even a split second later he snaps his teeth together, glaring at me as he flicks his tail in my direction, as if trying to whisk me away.

 

I dig my claws into the ground as a few speckles of blood shower the ground before my paws at his jerking movement, the scent of blood and death once again making its way into my nostrils. He goes back to looking at the hatchling, whose eyes are wide with fear, his gaze flickering between us both as he paws pathetically at the paw holding him down. The hatchling is small and frail, and for a second, I worry that if the Nightcrawler increases his pressure he will break.

 

I don’t voice my thoughts though, instead I just growl at the battered dragon, trying to get his attention. _::You need fire on your wounds, or they’ll never heal properly. Just leave the hatchling, and let me help you::_ He snarls at me, his eyes as thin as my needle sharp claws as his tongue escapes his maw in a show of anger. My tail lashes in frustration and irritation as I bare my fangs at him. How can this dragon be so _stubborn?_

 

I’m about to growl at him again when a flash of silver catches my attention, and out of the corner of my eye I watch as the hatchling stealthily reaches for his fallen weapon. The blade glints against the falling moonlight as he points the tip at the Nightcrawler's side. I screech in alarm, my eyes widening. The Nightcrawler looks down at the young viking, catching sight of the small blade. He snarls and tries to jump away, but with his wounds, he isn’t fast enough.

 

In a flash I’m at the Nightcrawler’s side, leaping up on my hind legs as I shove him away, sending him softly tumbling and rolling into a thick patch of grass. I feel the weapon connect with my body, cracking open my scales and splitting through muscles and nerves as it digs deep into my tender flesh. I roar in pain, leaping away. The sudden movement makes the hatchling’s wrist twist into an odd position. He cries out in pain, and then the sound of a bone snapping fills the air.

 

Pain blinds me, and my once sharp eyesight blurs as my thoughts grow fuzzy. In the back of my mind I’m aware of blood spilling down my side, dripping down my scales in small scarlet rivulets, but at the moment I don’t have enough sense to immediately twist my head around and flame my wound to stop the bleeding. My ear flaps cringe as an angry snarl leaves the Nightcrawler’s maw, though whether it’s directed at me or the hatchling, I don’t know.

 

All I know is that I need to find a quiet, secluded place, so that I can flame my wounds and rest. Wild instinct takes me over, and with fleeting movements I’m suddenly running. Each step sends a flare of liquid pain shooting through my bones and I turn my head, reaching back as I try to pull the blade out from where it’s lodged in my flank. I can’t reach it, but I keep trying. Suddenly, I’m crashing into a tree, letting out a shriek of surprise as I then slip on a rock.

 

Pain laces across the muscles in my left fore ankle, and my ear flaps prick as the bones in my ankle scrape against one another and then _pop._ I try to shake it off, but as soon as I put pressure on my ankle I’m jerking backwards, my whole leg throbbing as I suddenly slip over a ledge right behind me. The world around me spins, the green and brown of the land mixing together with the blue and white of the sky, and soon I’m crashing hard onto the ground.

 

I land directly on my right wing, and a feeling like fire makes the scales on my body quiver as the scales around my left fore ankle puff out in immediate swelling. I let out a defeated warble, weariness overtaking me. As black ebbs at the corners of my vision, I think I hear a faint shriek from the Nightcrawler, and a loud crash that soon follows. But I’m too weak to think much of it, and soon, all I see is darkness.

 

At first, everything is black. After a second though, I can feel my mind slipping into the rest link. Almost immediately, images of my division fill my head, and in the back of my mind I realize that I never _did_ disconnect my thought link with them. I must be seeing through their eyes, and as a nagging buzz at the back of mind grows louder and louder, I realize that I can also still hear their thoughts. Which is weird, since this has never been known to happen before, but I ignore that fact.

 

Suddenly, colors flash before my - _their_ \- eyes, and my heart starts pumping wildly in my chest on its own, as if it knows I should be afraid even though I’m not. I can hear my dragon’s fright before I hear Her hum through their ears, can smell their fear scent from their nostrils before I smell the lava and smoke tumbling off Her thick hide as the Queen raises Her head from the lava pit. I don’t know If I’m snarling on the outside, but I am on the inside.

 

I can feel their fear, _all_ of their fear, and combined it’s like a weight that threatens to crush me. But I arch my back as my irises shrink into slitted slivers, a snarl slipping from my ajar maw. They can’t challenge Her, but I will - I _need_ to - and I find myself baring my fangs in their defence. Her words are a thunderous roar that makes the whole volcano shudder - I can feel it through my dragons as the rocks they stand on shake under their paws.

 

But oddly enough, I can’t understand the Mother. My ear flaps flick, Her silent humming almost making my scales peel right off of my body. Each of Her large eyes all swivel in different directions, slobber dripping down from her colossal fangs as she opens her maw in anger, her pupils now slits. With a savage roar she snaps at a ledge homing a group of Rock Eaters, and before I can see their fate my eyes snap open.

 

My head jerks upwards, the world around me spinning as a rush of adrenaline zips through my veins. I shoot up onto all fours, wincing as my sprained ankle throbs along with my sore wing. I ignore the pain though, and instead shut my eyes, trying to get my breathing under control. The images from my dream have already started to fade away, and instead of trying to remember the horrid images, I direct my focus on my surroundings.

 

It's dark, with only the shine of moonhigh above to keep the shadows at bay.  _:I must have been in rest for hours:_ I think to myself, giving a light shake of my head. That explains why I feel rested, but there still lingers a deeper ache in my bones, one that reminds me of my recent injury. Bending my neck downwards, I sniff at the wound. The area where the blade had pierced is already scabbing over, some of my cracked scales starting to grow back as my blood clotting has helped stopped the bleeding. I narrow my eyes, curious as to how my wound has healed so well.

 

I never licked it, since my saliva has healing properties, and I don’t remember ever flaming it to seal off the slice either. As for the blade itself…

 

I look around, trying to spot the small weapon. It’s nowhere in sight - I do notice a small trail of blood though. I taste the air, capturing the aroma lingering on the red droplets. The sweet flavor of my own scent makes me jerk my tongue back. I remember falling, but the blood is splattered across the ground like a trail, and I haven’t moved an inch from when I’d blacked out. My head aches as I try to figure out how the trail of crimson came to be, and eventually I just give up.

 

I'm still injured, and still very, very tired, and with nothing else to do, I decide to go back to rest. I plop down in a comfortable position, winding my tail around myself and resting my head on my paws. Maybe this would be the ideal time to fly away, and return home, but something tells me it's not. In the back of my mind, thoughts of the Nightcrawler arise, but I shake them away. I can worry about the other dragon later, when the sun takes the place of the moon, but for now... 

 

I sleep.

 

When I'm awake, no grogginess lingers. For some reason, my senses are completely alert. Blinking, I turn my head in circles, taking in what I couldn't see in the previous night's darkness. I’m in a cove of some sort, with high stone walls and trees growing out of the sides. I probably won’t be able to fly out until I heal a bit more, but as long as I have water I’ll be fine, since dragons can survive without food for weeks on end. My eyes stop traveling as they land on a black figure - completely still and predatory - with his back arched and his white fangs bared.

 

Sharp green slivers clash with my own purple slits, and I immediately twist around so that I’m fully facing him and my side isn’t exposed. I can’t tell if he’s going to attack, he just... _stands_ there - completely still. But I’m not willing to take any chances. I unsheathe my claws to their full length, letting my razor sharp spines quiver in warning as a low snarl slips past the cracks in between my flashing fangs. He just continues watching me, his gaze never leaving mine.

 

Finally, I just decide to break the tense atmosphere, and ruffle my wings as I slowly raise myself out of my battle crouch. His acid like irises follow my every movement, never blinking, but surprisingly he starts to follow my lead. He stands straight up, his claws still visible and a crease making the bridge of his snout wrinkle in a silent growl, but he’s less tense. Suddenly, he turns around and starts walking away, his tail lashing out behind him, showing me his missing tailfin.

 

It looks better, and the wound has closed, but the lack of the actual fin is evident. Immediately, I understand what happened. Of course he tried flying away from the young viking, but instead crashed in here. It's more of a surprise that I hadn't noticed him earlier. My eyes narrow at the thought, but I instead turn my focus on that of the hatchling. _::What happened to the viking::_ I warble, almost taking a step forward. But the Nightcrawler freezes, one of his paws stilled in midair. I can see his spines bristle, and the scales behind his neck slowly raise like hackles.

 

I get ready for him to attack, my body low to the ground in a flash. But he doesn’t move. His irritation is clear, but after a moment he continues to stalk forward, away from me. I huff, my nostrils flaring as I tilt my head in confusion. What is _wrong_ with this dragon? It’s like his mood is everywhere! He’s as bad as a Preener! _:No offense:_ I say to myself, thinking about all the Preeners in my division.

 

A bolt of guilt strikes me at the thought of my dragons, small snippets of my dream rushing back at me. _:Are they ok? How did the raid go? Has She noticed that me and the Nightcrawler are gone? What am I thinking? Of_ course _She noticed that we’re gone! How did She react though? Did She kill anyone:_ The last thought makes my stomach turn, my throat clenching as something like a hopeless wail escapes me.

 

The Nightcrawler looks at me, his eyes wide in obvious surprise. But I don’t care, I’m too busy worrying over my dragons back at the Nest. _:What if...what if they think I_ abandoned _them? - that I ran and fled and left them all to suffer:_ I miss how the Nightcrawler tilts his head in questioning, his ear flaps pointing towards the sky as his nose twitches, taking in the fear scent that drifts out from under the pores hidden beneath my ebony scales.

 

I look up at the sky, my eyes roaming over the vast sea of blue and tufts of white. I can’t let my dragons think that I left them behind - I _can’t._ But I also can’t leave the Nightcrawler. _He’s_ my dragon too. I turn my head and look his way, only to see that he’s already watching me with his piercing gaze. But he’s not looking at me, he’s looking at my _tailfins._ I can’t tell If I really see longing in his eyes, but I practically _feel_ his sorrow that fills the air. I won’t abandon him.

 

Either we get out of here together, or we don’t get out at all.

 

His green eyes snap upwards to lock with mine, and for a second I think I see confusion in them, but soon they’re back to being cold and hard. _::No dragon left behind::_ It’s just four simple words, but it’s four simple words that I tell my division _every single time_ before we leave our Nest to go raid. It’s practically law. His eyes widen the smallest bit, but no emotion shows. And for the first time when I talk to him, he doesn’t growl at me. He just stands there, watching me.

 

I tilt my head, my eyes flickering to rest on the sight of his tailfin. There’s a light sheen of saliva on it, but it won’t ever fully heal unless he flames it so that the wound can start closing off. _::If you don’t flame your wound soon, your tailfin will never grow back::_ He does snarl at me this time, his face contorting into anger and hostility so fast that it gives me whiplash. He turns around and stalks away, frustration in each of his steps, and for the life of me I can’t figure out why.

 

But suddenly he whips out his wings - his _large_ wings - and shoots off into the sky. It’s surprises me at how high he gets, but soon he starts to falter, and with a screech he falls back down to earth, crashing hard on the ground. I snort, an odd but familiar scent catching in my nostrils as I do so. My eyes turn to slits as the smell of the same hatchling who had shot down the Nightcrawler grows stronger, and ignoring the aching in my side I dart behind a bush.

 

I let out a small yelp as pain shoots through my left fore ankle, forgetting that I’d sprained it when I’d fallen into the cove. The Nightcrawler doesn’t notice though, and continues trying to take off. I watch as he shoots up, grasping at the stone walls with his sharp claws as he tries to find a grip, but eventually he falls back down. He tries to propel himself off of a fallen log, and with each failing attempt I find myself pitying him.

 

My wounds will heal fully, and so will his, but at the end of the day I’ll be the only one out of the two of us who can still fly. The thought leaves my mind as the finless dragon shoots a frustrated plasma blast at the ground, the grass burning and soil charring as a smothering ash coats the spot where his blast hit. He paws at the ground in irritation, shaking his head as his ear flaps slap hard against the sides of his neck.

 

He takes off again, flying gracefully into the sky for a few seconds before he crashes hard on the ground. I wince as he lands shoulder first, his wings hanging limp at his sides in defeat. He doesn’t move, but lets out a loud groan, whether filled with pain or sadness I can’t tell. I catch a flash of movement in the water in front of him, and I guess he does too, because he slowly gets up. Lunging at the water, he snaps around for any fish.

 

He pulls back with his maw empty.

 

I can feel his disappointment, and the hungry rumble of his stomach makes my ear flaps twitch. My own stomach constricts into knots, completely empty. I’m no stranger to feeling the pangs of starvation though, so I shake the thought away, ignoring the hunger gnawing at my very bones. I almost move to help him with his hunt when a sudden _clink_ reaches my ear flaps. Me and the Nightcrawler both look up at the same time - at the same thing.

 

The hatchling rests on a rock on the ledge of the cove wall, one of his paws held out, and the other holding a small brown object. One of his limbs is wrapped: the paw that I had probably injured while pulling away from his stabbing weapon. I growl lowly at the thought. His green eyes widen slightly as he sucks in a sharp breath, his chest going still as the tangy aroma of sweat rolls off of his flesh freely. His fear scent is also present, and I huff, still unused to smelling such a thing.

 

I wait for the Nightcrawler’s growl, but he doesn’t make a sound. Instead, the hatchling tilts his head in questioning, and the black dragon does the same. Everything is still, and nothing seems to move. But suddenly the hatchling scrambles away, throwing one last look over his shoulder at the Nightcrawler before squeezing through a small crack in the wall and disappearing. I watch the ebony dragon with a steady gaze, wondering what he’s thinking.

 

Maybe I could try to connect my thought link to his again?

 

No, he would probably just try to kill me - again.

 

The Nightcrawler finally moves, shaking his body as if he’s wet, and unfurling his wings as he takes off. Walking out of the bush I was hiding behind I make my way to the lake, my ear flaps shooting upwards as I hear him crash behind me, and then swirling as the wind brushes against them harshly. I crouch down low to the ground, stalking closer to the water, my eyes trailing a fish that’s swimming too close to the edge.

 

Baring my teeth, I lunge for it.

 

There’s a large splash as water covers my face, speckling my wings and back. The taste of fresh blood and rich meat runs overs my tongue and dribbles down my throat, the sound of soft bones crunching under my fangs making me let out a small purr. I turn around, fish in my maw, and look for the Nightcrawler. His eyes are already on me, and with a grunt I fling the food at him. It lands a couple feet in front of his paws.

 

His ear flaps flick as he stares at it, his nose twitching before he looks back up at me. _::Eat::_ I growl out, nodding at the fish before turning my back and walking away. I can feel his eyes on me, but after a few long seconds there’s a low growl, and then the chomping of him eating the fish and swallowing it whole. I huff smugly, but it soon disappears from my muzzle as I feel weariness nip at my bones and very blood.

 

My wings rest heavily at my sides, almost dragging across the ground as I pad over to a small patch of lush grass. I can feel my flame inside me growing, and soon enough purple fire is blazing out from my maw, creating a nice firebed for me to sleep on. I slowly turn in a circle until the ground is burnt properly, and then flop down with a tired grunt. _:I haven’t felt this exhausted in a long time:_ I think to myself, my mind already slipping into the rest link as I slowly drift off.

 

This time there’s no whispers that fill my head, and the buzz that usually nags at the corners of my mind is gone. I didn’t disconnect my thought link with any of my dragons, but they probably separated from it some time during the day. I sigh, a pang of guilt striking me. They know I would never just up and leave them, but they’re only dragons - the thought will still have crossed their minds one way or another. With that thought in head, I fall into a fitful rest.

 

I don’t know how much time passes - maybe hours, maybe days - but it feels like forever.

 

And my dreams...well, they’re anything but peaceful.

 

_:::The Nest._

 

_A volcano, lava bubbling up to the surface every few years, but it never spills over the top. One side is barren and black, with scorch marks lining each scraggly rock and small streams of lava running down its side like bloodstains. Thick white snow covers the opposing side, ice and sleet hidden under the small splatter of trees and vegetation that grows there from the mix of heat and cold circling around the land, the frost cooling the volcano’s glowing embers in a protest of time._

 

_It has wildlife, just not very much, but its bushes and berries seem most inviting, and small rodents skitter amongst its shrubs and foliage. That’s probably one of the reasons most dragons don’t try to fly away when they see it. That, and they’re too far gone in Her dark melody to ever think about turning back. Any attempts of escape are thwarted by Her, a dark fog in your mind or a shallow whisper in your ear, always dragging you back to the island._

 

 _Our Queen is the Red Death, nicknamed the Mother: She is like a dragon never known, a powerful,_ massive _beast, armored in spines and a hide so thick that even the lava pit She dwells in can’t kill Her. And the song She plays in our heads never ceases - it violates our thoughts and forces us to act out against our will - always making sure we’re under Her complete control. No longer are we independant and free willed, just tools for Her using._

 

_The majority of the dragons living on the island are the more common ones: Rock Eaters, Preeners, Twin Spitters, Scavengers, Fire Scalers, Illusions, and even a small group of Smoke Billowers. Under Her control is one Lightning Splitter, and it is said that She used to have a horde of Stone Hides before they tried flying away - they were never seen again. I’ve never even seen a Scorch Marker or a Cloud Cutter, only ever heard stories, but some say they’re real._

 

_But I can’t keep track of all the dragons that come into the Nest. It’s too hard because there are too many, and the only way She keeps order is by grouping us all into separate divisions, where a random leader is selected and sends us out to raid the Viking Nests every night, taking what food we can manage to steal and feeding it to Her when we get back. She doesn’t tell us how to feed ourselves, so we hunt and fish, only barely managing to get by everyday._

 

_The life we live is cruel and unfair, but for those who seek escape are called back by Her whispers and never seen again. Others have even killed themselves, to save themselves and their hatchlings from the horror of it all. Those who have survived so far only have done so by the unity of the Nest, and by the bond we have created with one another over the years. Every lightfall, when the sun starts sinking down into the ocean and the moon rises, we sing._

 

_There is no roaring or squawking, no screeching, and no barks of anger - only humming._

 

 _I remember once where a group of Rock Eaters sang loudly of fish and elk, the rest of the dragons adding in their favorite foods and animals they loved to hunt. It made us hungry afterwards, but it was worth it. I don’t know what the vikings sing about, but mostly we sing of faraway paradises and lands, filled with lush forests where all dragons are free to live content and happy and alone - without the Red Death, or_ any _Queen for that matter._

 

_But it is just what it is: a time of singing for false hope, and eventually when all the dragons fall asleep one by one, each one lulled to rest by the humming of the others, there is no one left to sing, and the illusion ends. Just like how it has ended now. My ear flaps flick, the tips shooting up towards the sky as I listen to the eerie silence as it starts creeping out from the shadows. The last dragon has just fallen asleep and the air is still, void of any humming._

 

_I look down from the perch of my ledge, my sharp vision watching as hundred of scaly chests rise and fall. I let out my own breath, fog gathering in front of my muzzle as it tints red with the lava’s hue. Heat nips at my scales but cold air stabs at my lungs, making me let out a loud snort as I scrape my claws against the scraggly rock I rest on. My ear flaps swirl wildly as I pick up the sound of a dragon snoring._

 

_My eyes catch the twitch of a paw as a Rock Eater rolls over, grunting as its tongue lolls out of the side of its maw. I tilt my head in curiousity, ear flaps ruffling against the still air. Lightfall has long since passed, and moonhigh is at its peak. Dark shadows play against the stone walls of the volcano, illuminated by the ominous glow of the lava pit where the Red Death dwells. I can hear Her snores, each breath like an earthquake that shakes the island._

 

_The Mother’s dreams are like whispers in the back of my head. Her hold on me never lets up - always there - as if I need a reminder that my will is no longer mine. I can feel the scales on the back of my neck raise like hackles at the thought, a guttural hiss slipping past my fangs as I snarl into the silent night. A lone Scavenger rouses, blinking slowly as he lets out an annoyed grunt, obviously angry at being awoken so suddenly._

 

_I immediately still, my ear flaps shooting up to point towards the sky as I wait until he falls back to rest. When he does I relax, ruffling my wings at my sides in exhaustion. Suddenly, a few pebbles fall out of place, skittering past my paw. I huff, turning my head to peek through the opening at the top of the Nets. My eyes scan over the stars littering the sky, as if a great dragon had once tried to flame the heavens and the hot sparks of his fire was the only thing that remained._

 

_I let out a coo of wonderment: the sky is always more alive at moonhigh._

 

_I blink, something about everything happening around me seeming so oddly...familiar. I mull over everything that’s happened so far, searching my memory for anything like this that’s happened before. Most nights spent in the Nest are the same, but this feels more like deja vu. Suddenly, I’m hit with a realization. Everything that’s happening right now is exactly what happened before I left to raid Berk! I don’t know why I’m remembering this though, and my body - I can’t move it._

 

_It’s like I’m being forced to relive the few moments before I led my division away in a dream._

 

_I look away from the stars, standing up as I stretch my legs and dig my claws into the hard rock under my paws, my maw opening in a large yawn as I stretch my tongue out to lick the top of my snout. I'm jostled from my spot as a roaring hum shoots out from the lava pit, waking the dragons from their rest as a group of pebbles scamper down the other ledges. My ear flaps fall flat against the back of my head as my eyes shrink into slits._

 

 _I glare at the massive pit that She sleeps in, trying to see past the thick volcanic smog, but to no avail._   _All the other dragons start to stand up, stretching their legs and wings as some are already shooting off into their divisions. I ruffle my wings too, stretching them out as the tips just barely graze the stone walls boarding my ledge. I shoot myself upwards with a powerful wing stroke, twirling in midair as I savor the feeling of air rushing past my scales._

 

_It's raiding time._

 

_Tucking my wings at my sides, I do a quick dive, closing my eyes as the ground rushes at me. Snapping my wings open at the last second I catch air, gliding down to my division smoothly as I land gently on my paws, my ear flaps flickering as I listen to the other dragons sorting themselves out in their own groups. I open my eyes once more as a hush falls over the Nest. I look back over my shoulder, my ear flaps erect as I scan the horde of dragons standing behind me._

 

_We’re ready._

 

 _I’m missing two in my division, I’d lost them in the last raid. I let my ear flaps flicker in anger, but hold back a growl so that the others don’t hear. I can’t think about that now, I have a job to do. I couldn’t save those other two, but If I focus, I can make sure that this raid goes without any deaths. I snort in confirmation, the sound making all eyes turn towards me._ ::Another raid, another night:: _I say, humming lowly._ ::Let’s get this over with::

 

_It’s all the dragons in my division need to get hyped up, and before I know it ears are flicking and swirling wildly in anticipation and impatience. I ruffle my wings, leaning my head back as I look back up at the opening on the head of volcano, what we dragon's call Freedom, even though we can never leave, not with Her constantly inside our heads. I’m snapped out of my thoughts as She starts whispering words into my mind, a warning: we’d better leave soon._

 

::No dragon left behind:: _I remind my division before I let out a screeching roar, catching the attention of the other dragons. Whipping out my wings I thrust myself up into the air, shaking away the dark buzz in my mind as I try to focus on my division. The other dragons follow my lead, the leaders of the other divisions doing the same. I let out another roar, shooting up towards the top of the volcano as I pass through Freedom in a blaze of speed and wind._

 

_Immediately, cold wind hits me, making me shiver in my scales as my ear flaps quiver in excitement. This is the only time we get to be away from Her, even if only for a short amount of it. As the rest of my dragons file out behind me, the other divisions follow. The division after mine flies out of Freedom, led by Flashfleck, the single Lightning Splitter that makes up part of the rarer dragon section of the Nest._

 

_As soon as he shoots out of Freedom, clouds gather in the sky, lightning shooting down from them and thunder clapping loudly as the lightning wraps around his body, an extra armor coating his tough scales as he gives out a loud roar. My ear flaps fall flat against the back of my head and I roar back, snorting as I glare at him. He stares slits at me but turns towards his division, shooting off in the opposite direction as me as his dragons follow._

 

_This Nest needs leaders, not showoffs._

 

_Next flying out of Freedom is Embersky, a young Preener. Her scales are a bright green, like the shade the sky turns every lightfall. Behind her neck and paws sprout out a purplish color, and her eyes glow a cyan blue. She’s a kind dragon, younger than me, and cares about her division unlike any other dragon before her. I give her a nod as our eyes lock. She nods back, flying up to me as we quickly share a nose, which is basically just when two dragons press their snouts together._

 

_I watch her as she lets out a loud squawk, flying away as she leads her dragons to their assigned Viking Nest. Following her is Gloryfire, a massive Fire Scaler who, with his wingspan, can barely fit through Freedom. His body is covered in mostly black, orange and red seeping out from under his wings and paws. He grunts at me in good luck, and I press my snout against his hide as he flies by._

 

_His dragons follow him and I watch as the last division pours out of Freedom. Their leader is Skydancer, another Preener. Her scales are colored the darkest purple I’ve ever seen, pink and light blue peeking out from under her chin and covering the front half of her muzzle, green sprouting out from her underbelly and the tips of her wings. She cocks her head to the side and squawks at her division, turning around as she guides them off into the distance._

 

_One by one, they all eventually disappear from view._

 

_After a second I look away, turning to face my own division as I let out a roar, and shoot off into the distance. I can hear the beating of my dragons’ wings as they follow me, the inhales and exhales of them making my ears swirl in different directions, a shallow roar making my ear flaps crinkle against my skull. I shake my head, taking in a deep breath of fresh night air. My gaze flickers down to the clear ocean water below me._

 

_I speed past the water, but the reflection stays the same. A few ripples make the image of me and my dragons disoriented, but I can still make out each and every one of them clearly. For a split second I look up, trying to spot the Nightcrawler but only hearing the shrill whistle of his wings. I look away, shaking my head as my ear flaps slap the sides of my neck. Suddenly, a small Scavenger - Bluebreeze - appears at my side._

 

 _Huh, I don’t remember_ _this ever happening._

 

 _The small dragon tilts her head, staring at me intensely._ ::Why did you leave us:: _She asks, her voice quiet and her bright green eyes sad. Guilt crashes down on me, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I tap into my thought link, wanting to respond - to tell her that I haven’t abandon anyone - but I can’t seem to speak. I’m completely frozen except for the flapping of my wings, but even then I’m not even sure I’m actually flying._

 

 _Everything around me starts fading: the ocean, the moon, the stars, and all that’s left are me and my division. I suddenly turn my head to look over my shoulder, staring at the eyes of all the dragons behind me. They all start asking the same question._ ::Where are you:: ::Why did you leave us:: ::Are you coming back:: ::Why would you abandon us after saying that you never would:: ::Were you lying to us this whole time:: ::Will we ever see you again::

 

 _The questions keep coming, the voices turning loud and angry. The words start jumbling together, and suddenly my head starts to feel fuzzy. Their eyes are slitted now, full of hate and scorn, and I almost feel like wailing in my despair. My head starts throbbing painfully, and soon their words aren’t even words anymore: just snarls and growls. Everything jumbles up to the point of where I start pawing at my own muzzle, trying to get their thoughts_ _out._

 

_But suddenly, everything quiets down so that one voice can break through the ruckus to reach me._

 

::Why didn’t you take us with you::

 

_:I wish I could’ve: It’s my own thought, one that they can’t hear, but I secretly hope that they’re able to. The questions stop, and one by one, every dragon of my division starts to disappear. They fade completely, vanishing from my sight, but somehow I can still feel their gazes burning holes into my back. Once they’re all gone, I let my head hang. Without my consent my wings keep flapping, and I’m just flying._

 

Thwack.

 

_The sound reaches my ear flaps quickly, and my head shoots up, my whole body alert. I almost jerk back in surprise as the Viking Nest I’d been sent to raid stands before me, fire lightning up its small wooden dens as the vikings run around waving their blades in the air. Smog and smoke blinds me momentarily, but I can still make out the net of vines that flies through the air, wrapping around the Nightcrawler as he plummets down down down down - until he hits ground._

 

 _A screech slips from my maw, my heart racing even though everything happening before me is nothing new._ Thwack. _The odd device the hatchling had used to shoot down the Nightcrawler sounds again and I’m confused._ :I thought Firescale took care of - : _I’m not even able to finish my own thought before another web of vines crashes into me, pinning my wings against my hide and chafing against my scales as my shriek of surprise is ripped from my throat._

 

_I start falling, everything racing past me in a blur. The world spins around me so fast, and I almost snap my eyes shut as I start to feel dizzy. My stomach rolls and twists as I try to jerk out of the binds, but I can’t move even an inch. The forest comes into view quickly, lit up by the light of moonhigh, and I can see my crash site clearly. Wind rushes past me and I try to curl into a ball as much as I can as the treetops come into view._

 

_I let out one last shriek as my body hits the ground:::_

 

My eyes snap open, adrenaline still rushing through my veins from the dream. I shoot up on all fours, whipping my head around as my tongue flicks out into the air, trying to catch any lingering scents of my division. What I taste though, isn’t of anything that would come from any of my dragons or the raid we made last night. My nose twitches as I continue to sniff the air, my tongue curling around the salty aroma: fish - but not just any fish, it’s cod.

 

My maw waters at the thought of the juicy fish, and my tongue shoots out to lick my chops hungrily. I thrust my muzzle into the air, sniffing the enticing fragrance once more, tasting it as my eyes narrow. There’s a husky scent hidden just underneath the aroma of the sea creature, and I snort as I try to figure out what it is. A sudden flash of movement catches my eye, and as I whip my head to the side, purple irises clash with green ones.

 

Except, it’s not the Nightcrawler I’m staring at.

 

It’s the hatchling.


	2. Of Viking And Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astrid and the mystery Night Fury finally meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some of you might be angry at the pairing, but then again I knew that would happen. I could give you a thousand reasons why Heather isn’t the manipulative, deceitful, cruel, and erratic character everyone always makes her out to be, but I’d rather not have you read a five page author’s note. With that being said, there will be Hiccstrid, but it just won’t be endgame. Besides, Heather won’t really be introduced until later in the story, so don’t fit and fidget about that.

_Earlier that day…_

 

“ Is this some kind of a _joke_ to you? Our parents’ war is about to become _ours_ \- _figure out_ which side you’re on. ” I pull my axe back down to my side, throwing Hiccup one last glare before I turn on my heel and start walking towards the entrance of the arena. We still have to meet up with Gobber in the Great Hall for our class gathering before we’re dismissed, but right now I want nothing more than to go deep into the forest and sink my blade into some trees.

 

I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this angry.

 

I know Hiccup’s known as the village screwup - the klutz, the cursed. But I thought that he would at least _try._ Instead, he’s hiding behind his shield and doing some _casual chatting_ while _stuck in an arena with a deadly dragon._ For Thor’s sake, what was he thinking?! _He wasn’t thinking. He’s Hiccup._ I think to myself, internally groaning at my own words. I know how the other teens tease and mock him - I’ve been there for most of it - but I never joined in on it.

 

And the fact that Stoick the Vast - _Chief_ of this tribe - just lets it go on without doing _anything_ about it is almost...tragic. I don’t know what I feel for him. Pity? Sympathy? Is there really a difference? I hold back a sigh, pushing the thought away as I see Snotlout appear on my right out of the corner of my eye. _Oh for Valhalla’s sake._ I mentally roll my eyes, gritting my teeth as I wait for his inevitable quip, even though Odin knows he needs better pickup lines.

 

“ So, great move with that Nadder back there. ” He starts out, leaning closer to me. I wish I could pull away from him, but a Hofferson doesn’t shrink away from _anything,_ especially not just an arrogant fool who I could take down in a split second. “ I mean, I could’ve done the same thing of course, but I’ll let you have that one. ” _How generous._ “ Anyway, you thinking about the offer I gave you yesterday? Did you maybe wanna come over -”

 

“ Nope. ”

 

At this rate, he’ll die single.

 

I can practically _feel_ him deflate as he clamps his mouth shut, his ego stinging from the swift rejection. I mean, I didn’t even let him _finish his sentence._ I know Snotlout isn’t one for any type of commitment _at all,_ but I have to give him some credit on this. He’s been trying to get me draped under his arm for _years_ now, and even though it’s practically torture sometimes, I guess I can’t really say that he’s never dedicated himself to something.

 

_Too bad it had to be me._

 

I pick up my pace slightly, climbing up the small steep from the bottom of the entrance to the top of it. I can hear the other teens following me, and as I glance over my shoulder to watch them, I can feel a slight sense of pride fill my chest. They’re no viking warriors, that’s for sure, but they’re _mine._ They listen to my orders and follow my lead - we’re like our own little tribe - and knowing that makes me feel like I’m already a full fledged viking of the Hairy Hooligans Tribe.

 

And when I win at Dragon Training - when I _kill the_ _Monstrous Nightmare_ in front of the _entire_ _village_ \- the Hofferson's title of ‘fearless’ will finally be returned to us. “ Alrighty then, ” I turn my head as Gobber’s voice reaches my ear, the one handed man making his way towards us as he casually scratches his chin with his hook. “ Let's make our way over to the Great Hall, last one there has to get the food. ” He chuckles softly.

 

Immediately, the twins race off in the direction of the village, shoving each other along the way to see who can get to the Hall first. I just roll my eyes, setting my shield down against the arena wall as I hook my axe to my belt. I’ve been thinking of getting one of those back straps to hold it instead of my belt, but I haven’t gotten to asking Gobber for one yet. Maybe I’ll ask when we get to the Hall. The light murmur of Fishlegs and Snotlout talking pulls me away from my thoughts.

 

The two rarely ever talk, but at least when they do I know it won't end in a shouting match like it does when Snotlout patronizes the twins. Fishlegs has always been like a peace keeper - never making fun of Hiccup with the others or causing trouble around Berk like the twins. He’s a stand-on-the-sidelines kind of guy I guess. We continue walking away from the arena, and soon enough we reach the bridge that leads to the village.

 

As we enter the village I catch a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. Tilting my head backwards slightly, I just barely manage to catch sight of Hiccup as he ducks behind a hut and disappears from view completely. I have to resist the urge to call out his name and _drag him along with us,_ but I just shake my head, my hands clenching into fists at my sides as I continue walking with the others. If he wants to disregard his training, then that’s his problem.

 

By the time we reach the doors of the Great Hall, the sky’s started to dim a little, and shadows start to drape across the ground like lanky fingers. I push open the massive double doors of the Hall, following Gobber as he leads us to an empty table. Ruff and Tuff are already there, grinding their helmets together as Tuffnut shoves his sister down against the table. “ Get off me jerk! ” Ruffnut yells, managing to angle her hand so that she punches her brother in the face.

 

He lets go of her with a yelp. Shaking his head, he smiles wickedly. “ Awesome! ” He shouts, fixing his helmet so that it’s not crooked anymore. “ Do that again! ” Listening to his demand, the female twin starts punching her brother mercilessly, not hard enough to leave any bruising, but just enough to make him see stars. _Ugh._ I sigh to myself, not bothering to hide my annoyance as I visibly roll my eyes at the pair.

 

We all sit down at our table, and right as Fishlegs sets down a plate of food in front of each of us because he was the last to step inside the Hall, Gobber speaks up. “ Uh, where’s Hiccup? ” “ He probably got eaten! ” Tuffnut immediately replies, still rolling around on the ground while his sister assaults him. “ Wait! Hiccup got eaten?! Why weren’t we there to see it?! ” The girl of the two siblings yells, pausing in her punches to stare at her brother question.

 

“ Hmm, a very good question indeed. ” Tuffnut muses, rubbing his chin with his hand. I take a sip of mead, answering our mentor without looking his way. “ I saw him sneak away right when we reached the village, he probably went off into the forest. ” Snotlout chuckles, muttering something that sounds a lot like ‘predictable’ under his breath as he pierces his food with his fork. I glance at the blacksmith out of the corner of my eye, raising an eyebrow at the concerned look on his face.

 

I guess it makes sense though. With how much time the two spent together, Gobber’s probably more of a father to Hiccup than Stoick. _He practically_ raised _him._ I think to myself, tearing a small strip of meat off my meal before I slip it into my mouth. I’m pulled away from my thoughts as our Dragon Trainer sighs, shaking his head in exasperation before he starts the class gathering. It doesn’t go on for too long, but by the time it’s done I have to resist the urge to run out of the Hall.

 

I wait until the others have all scrambled away to do whatever they do, neatly stacking my dirty dishes as I then slowly walk out of the Great Hall. The clouds are white and puffy, and the sunlight is still streaking across the horizon, but there’s a slight chill in the air that warns of the nearing nighttime. I take in a deep breath, taking in the scents of the village as I start making my way towards the forest.

 

Practicing at dusk is always the best time, since the cool air helps my muscles relax while I’m working on my aim, so that I’m able to go on for hours on end. As I enter the outskirts of the village, I start into a slow trot, warming myself up as I make my way to my favorite practice area. The trees around me slowly start to thicken, and as the sounds of the village get quieter and quieter the farther away I go, the sounds of the forest starts to match my own heartbeat.

 

There aren’t too many birds out since most of the daytime creatures are starting to head off to bed, but whistles and tweets still ring through the air. A cool breeze whips through the trees, making the leaves around me rustle and clap against one another, mixing with the almost silent crunching of leaves being flattened under my boots with my every step. I hop over a log, curling in on myself at the last second as I do a quick roll and then shoot back up.

 

I never once miss a step.

 

Finally, I reach my destination. The trees around me circle around a small clearing, leaving each one as a target to practice on, and a few large boulders outline the area as perfect perches to rest against. I tilt my head backwards, estimating how much daylight I have left to throw my axe around, before I reach down and unclip my weapon from my belt. The familiar weight of the steel head and wooden handle make the corners of my mouth twitch slightly.

 

The axe was a gift from my mother - the only thing I have left of her. She died giving birth to me, and as for my father? Well, I never knew him. No one’s ever told me who he was or where he went, they won’t even mention his name, so I have to assume something bad happened to him before I was born. When I was younger, it was my uncle who took care of me, but after the Flightmare incident he went into a self exile, and no one’s seen him since.

 

Everyone thinks he’s dead, but ever since he left, I’ve been on my own. Being independent has kind of become my thing, and sometimes, I find myself avoiding the other villagers _on purpose._ I guess I’ve become use to being alone. I roll my shoulders at the thought, shaking it away. Instead, I focus on the tree in front of me. It’s already littered from trunk to tree top with deep gashes and scratch marks from all the previous times I’ve used it, but it’s my favorite one to practice on.

 

Gripping my axe with both of my hands, I balance myself out and raise my weapon over my head with ease. With a quiet grunt, I send my blade flying through the air. It spins in midair, making a slight whistling sound as it slices through the air, before sinking deep into the bark of the tree a second later. I walk over and yank it out of the wood, mentally checking where the impression it left is located, before I walk back over to my throwing point and aim for the exact same spot.

 

I practice for what seems like hours.

 

Shadows are covering most of the ground around me now, and sweat trickles down the back of my neck in small beads as my heart pounds in my chest. Blood is pounding against my eardrums, and my veins buzz with adrenaline, but I can start to feel my muscles ache and burn. I shake it off though, and continue throwing my axe at the trees around me. I duck down, deflecting an invisible enemy’s attack as I tumble and roll so that I can reach up and rip my blade out of the tree’s trunk.

 

Imaginary assailants surround me and I move quickly, avoiding their strikes and parrying them with ease. I wind my arm back one more time, throwing my axe with all my strength as I hit the tree, or in my mind, an attacker that was trying to get away. Instead of rushing to grab my weapon and continue on with my practice session, I take a second to catch my breath. Perching my hands atop my hips, I close my eyes and attempt to calm my racing heart.

 

Knowing that I have to let my muscles cool down, I slowly walk forward to grab my axe. The cramps that had settled inside my body while I was taking my short break start clenching, making me wince as I walk back towards my throwing point, deciding to get a few more throws in before heading back. Just as my axe hits true, the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck shoot up, an uneasy feeling stirring in my stomach.

 

Something’s watching me.

 

I retrieve my blade once more, turning around as I casually swing my axe back and forth while running my hand through my bangs, my eyes carefully scouring the area around me. I can’t _see_ anything, but that doesn’t mean nothing's there. Suddenly, a loud rustling sound fills the air, and I immediately stiffen. I whip around, my tired body once again pumping with adrenaline. A second later, I catch sight of something glowing from behind the thick cover of the foliage.

 

It’s a pair of amethyst irises.

 

o0o

 

_Earlier that day…_

 

I don’t understand, _why_ does he keep coming back?

 

Didn’t the Nightcrawler and I show him that we are not his to kill?

 

I snarl, the bridge of my nose crinkling as my tail thrashes wildly behind me like an ebony whip. In a split second, something big and black is next to me, and the scales lining the back of my neck raise in alarm at the sudden arrival. I turn my snarl towards it, before realizing that it’s only the Nightcrawler, and my ear flaps flick in annoyance. _::Nice of you to join me::_ I grumble, my deadly claws - sorry, _talons_ \- sinking deep into the earth under my paws.

 

The Nightcrawler doesn’t even spare me a second glance and instead keeps his eyes on the hatchling, his ear flaps twitching as a low growl slips past his maw. The sound of it makes my scales tingle, but I roll my shoulders - shaking it off - and go back to staring slits at the young viking. Visible beads of sweat dribble down his soft flesh, and the smell of it makes me snort. He flinches, eyes wide as his small chest rises and falls with each of his quick breaths.

 

 _:If he keeps breathing like that he’s going to faint:_ I grumble to myself, eyeing the color of his skin warily. It’s a healthy tanish color, but with each passing second he starts to get whiter and whiter, as if the blood in his body is literally draining out of him. I almost turn tail and walk away. If he doesn’t stop that, he’s just going to end up killing himself _for us._ But I stay in my spot, baring my teeth as I snap my fangs together, the loud _click_ of it making his breath audibly hitch.

 

 _Very slowly,_ the hatchling reaches out his paw that holds the cod. Me and the Nightcrawler both snarl, and while he hesitates for a second, he swallows down his fear and throws the fish onto the ground right in front of the Nightcrawler’s paws. I narrow my eyes in confusion, but the Nightcrawler starts inches forward. I almost roar at him to stay back - it _could_ be poisoned - before realizing that he's probably still hungry.

 

That fish I caught for him was probably barely enough to ebb away the weariness that comes with starvation. I keep a close eye on him just encase the hatchlings tries something, ready to spring into action with a snarl slipping past my muzzle and my fangs glinting. But the two are completely focused on each other, as if I'm not even here. The Nightcrawler continues slinking forward like a predator hunting its prey, slitted eyes warily watching the scrawny viking hatchling.

 

In return, the hatchling just follows the ebony dragon’s movements with his forest green eyes, a look of awe and wonderment on his flat muzzle. I snort, wings unfurled and claws out, already digging deep into the soil under me. Rolling out his tongue, the Nightcrawler licks the fish: making sure it isn’t poisonous, before biting its tail and flinging it high in the air. “ Huh. ” I huff as my ear flaps perk up at the sound of the hatchling’s words. “- toothless...I could’ve swore you had -”

 

He’s cut off as the Nightcrawler lets his razor sharp teeth pop out of their sheathes with an almost silent _slink._ He then swiftly catches the cod in his maw before chomping on it and then swallowing it whole, licking his chops in content as his fangs disappear back into his gums. The young viking finally finishes his sentence in an almost breathless whisper of wonder. “- teeth. ” I snort, unamused. What kind of dragon _wouldn’t_ have teeth?

 

My ear flaps flick as the hatchling takes in a deep breath, and as if by some impulse, he takes a step forward. I snarl at him, immediately ready to tear him to pieces. But it doesn’t matter anyway, because with a loud _thunk_ the shield held by the hatchling gets caught in between the slip of rocks he’s standing in, and as he tries to tug it free hastily, it won’t budge. I try to hold back a huff of laughter as a small, amused warble escapes me.

 

The hatchling looks up at me, surprised, before once again tugging at his wooden protection. Finally, with an annoyed huff, he crouches down and slips out from under it. The Nightcrawler growls, echoed by my warning tones as I claw at the ground, the black beast next to me pressing his ear flaps flat against the back of his skull. The young viking stumbles backwards, knocking into his shield, and with a loud _crack_ and a _pop_ it comes loose.

 

He goes tumbling down, landing on the wooden slab with a loud groan. To my surprise, the Nightcrawler slowly slinks towards the fallen boy, his lithe figure like a dark shadow against the burning sunlight overhead. I watch with a wary gaze, a growl still rumbling from deep within my chest. As the Nightcrawler gets closer and closer to the hatchling I open my maw, ready to flame the viking hatchling to a crisp at the first sign of danger.

 

The boy starts to sit up, eyes closed as he presses one of his pink paws against his head in what I can only guess is a sign of pain. He snaps open his green orbs - spotting the the massive black beast practically hovering directly over him - before screaming. I wince at the surprisingly shrill sound, and the Nightcrawler pounces. Placing a powerful paw against the boy’s chest he snorts, the auburn fur sitting atop the hatchling’s head ruffling slightly at the sudden gust of air.

 

I relax slightly at the sight of the young viking contained. He couldn’t of hurt us anyway, he’s too small - to weak - to overpower us, but it’s still comforting to know that he won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. The Nightcrawler leans down closer, sniffing the boy. Puzzled, I curl my tongue around the aromas in the air, and am surprised to find the scent of cod still on him. It’s not of the one the Nightcrawler ate, but a fresh scent.

 

He still has fish on him. Where though, I can’t see.

 

As if reading our minds, the boy slowly reaches into his hide of furs - flinching at the Nightcrawler’s warning growl - before continuing on and pulling out another fish. At seeing the food, the ebony dragon retracts his teeth once more, reaching for the fish. “ Incredible. ” The hatchling speaks. Snapping out of his stupor, the young viking suddenly pulls the fish away before the Nightcrawler can clamp down on it, holding it high above his head.

 

“ Uh no, no. T-this one’s for your friend. ” The scrawny viking maneuvers the fish around himself and the Nightcrawler who’s pinning him down, and holds it out for me. My ear flaps shoot up in surprise and alarm, my every vein buzzing with caution as I stare into his eyes. They are bright and _big,_ the obvious eyes of a hatchling, and so very green - just like the Nightcrawler’s. The scent of the fresh kill makes my stomach grumble, but I snarl at it.

 

I crouch down lower as my back arches and the spines decorating my back bristle dangerously. He pulls his paw back, his eyes wide with fear. In that split second of opportunity, the Nightcrawler snatches up the fish and leaps off the boy (who gasps at the sudden loss of weight), landing right next to me. I stare into his eyes, trying to find some kind of emotion in them. But they’re dark and cold, zig zagging lines of yellow dancing around inside of them, but holding no real light.

 

He holds the fish out for me, snorting, before letting it fall before my paws. I stare at it, my stomach turning. _::I’m not hungry::_ I growl out, suddenly distrustful. He doesn’t look at me odd, or growl back at me in response. He only scoops up the cod - sparing me one final glance - before swallowing it whole like he did the other. Something in my stomach turns uneasily, and I don’t know why, but suddenly I have the urge to just get away.

 

I can see the hatchling watching me out of the corner of my eye - looking at my markings - and I snarl at him one last time before lowering myself into a take off position. _::I’ll be back::_ I warble at the Nightcrawler, before I whip out my wings and shoot off into the sky. I need to clear my head, and flying always helps. I can’t remember the last time I flew in daylight. The sky is blue, dabbled with white blotches of fluffy clouds, and so _bright._

 

I squint, my eyes used to the ominous red hue of the volcano I’ve dwelled in for so long, unnatural to the surreal brightness of everything. It takes me by surprise how everything seems crisper, cleaner, and sharper. With the sun bathing the land, I can make out every wisp of grass below, and without the thundering sounds of my division’s beating wings behind me, I can hear the faintest trickling of water.

 

And with my heightened senses my ear flaps swirl to the left as I pick up a soft _thunk,_ faint and in the far distance of the island, but audible. I tilt my wings and swerve in that direction, my curiosity getting the better of me. Flapping my wings silently I let my gaze drag over the ground below, trying to find the source of the noise. It sounds again, louder this time, and I dive down to land on the ground quietly, instinctively hiding behind any shadows and shrubs that I can find.

 

I point my snout in the air, sniffing. Opening my maw, I curl my tongue around the various smells, my nostrils flaring as the scent of pine trees, rodents, soil, and forest fruits fill my senses. I snort unsatisfied, before I smell something else. Sweat and a light drizzle of blood, covered by the natural scents of the woods around me. My eyes slit at the husky undertone of it, the scent mixed with the sweet tinge of crackling fire and frostbitten nights.

 

I grunt in annoyance as I’m able to identify the creature - _another_ viking.

 

I tread lightly, padding on mossy leaves and stepping over twigs as I quickly start covering the distance between me and the viking. As I near it, the scent around me starts to change, and the smell of sweat grows thicker. I can taste grime in the air, and my ear flaps twitch at the sound of harsh breaths. Quickly ducking behind a bush, I go on high alert, creeping forward slowly as a loud _thunk_ reaches me. The sound of pawsteps makes me crouch down lower.

 

I still my tail and tightly press my wings against my sides, trying to make myself as small and unnoticeable as possible. Nudging some leaves away from my eyes, I look into a small clearing, my eyes narrowing as I spot the viking I’ve been tracking. It’s a female, and by her body size and height I can tell that she’s a hatchling. Curious, I take a closer look at her, noticing how she’s both similar and different the green eyed hatchling that’d shot the Nightcrawler down.

 

The tuft of fur perched on top of her head is longer and brighter, but smudged with dirt and soaked with a light layer of sweat. She’s small - like the other youngling - but not weak. Where her odd nestmate stumbles and trips, she walks elegantly and with confidence. I thrust my muzzle into the air and taste it, my ear flaps lowering in wariness as I don’t catch even the smallest hints of fear scent. She’s like the rest of her Nest - a fearless killer.

 

But it’s her eyes that really get to me.

 

They’re hard and cold and empty - exactly like the Nightcrawler’s - except her’s are blue. They’re a light blue, like a shimmering iceberg, but crisper. I’m drawn away from my thoughts as she throws her blade with a grunt. It hits its mark with deadly precision, sinking deep into a tree not to far away, sure to leave a scar. I watch as she retrieves it and then turns around so that she can make her way back to her throwing point.

 

I narrow my irises at the glinting piece of steel as she swings it lightly in the grasp of her paw, my sharp gaze catching the faded speckles of crimson that stain the weapon’s head. So she’s drawn blood before. Huh, odd for just a hatchling. During the raids, I usually catch sight of the younglings tending to the fires around their Nest while the adults fight us off. But she’s fought before - that much is obvious - which makes her more dangerous.

 

The young hatchling pushes her blonde fur away from her eyes, and at the tilted angle of her head her pupils almost look like the slits of a dragon. I blink in surprise, but as soon as I double check to make sure that what I saw was real, her irises go back to normal. I shake my head, the leaves around me ruffling loudly at the movement. She immediately freezes, as do I. The hatchling’s paws clench at her sides as she crouches down, looking around cautiously.

 

I attempt to slink away silently, but that’s when she spots me.

 

_Present time…_

 

Everything is still. It’s as if the whole world has stopped to watch this small confrontation. Only, this isn’t small. She isn’t like the hatchling boy who shot down the Nightcrawler and then _set him free._ No, she isn’t like him at all. I can see it in her eyes. If it had been her who had found the Nightcrawler when he was still bound in those vines, she would’ve killed him - because while the green eyed hatchling is nothing like the others of his Nest, she is _exactly_ like them.

 

And my day’s just gotten a whole lot harder.

 

Acting out of instinct, I snarl at the female hatchling. Swiftly, I jump away from the deadly aim of her weapon, leaping into a tree as I scramble up the branches with a quick elegancy. As soon as I go into motion, so does she. Rolling away, she also takes cover. Most other vikings would attack immediately - all bite and no bark. But I can see it all in her eyes: she’s smart, cunning, and fast, both with her body and her blade.

 

All things which only serve to make her even more dangerous.

 

I blend in with the bark and the leaves around me, my fangs glinting menacingly as I continue growling. The young viking glares me, her small claws curling tighter around the handle of her weapon. I continue snarling at her, the lilac tinted ebony scaled flaps running along the sides of my neck flaring out menacingly. For a split second, the female’s blue eyes widen slightly, but then they quickly go back to normal.

 

The weight of my wings pressed against my sides worries me, because I cannot take off, and a dragon who cannot fly when faced with danger is already half dead. I wait for the whistling of her blade soaring through the air at me, my muscles tensed and ready to jump out of the weapon’s path. But it doesn’t come, and I crouch down low on the branch - bewildered. The hatchling doesn’t move, and makes no show that she’s going to attack anytime soon.

 

I bare my fangs in frustration, knowing her strategy. The hatchling’s waiting for me to move, to come closer, so that she may not waist her blade on a shot that might not even hit true. _::You’re a smart viking, aren’t you::_ I growl at her, knowing she doesn’t understand me. I grip my claws into the wood below me, scraping off splinters of bark as I flick them at her. They all fall at the viking’s paws - one after the other - but she doesn’t acknowledge them.

 

I huff at the hatchling, smoke billowing out from my nostrils, the spike like flaps outlining the curve of my jaw vibrating as I growl at her in annoyance. She jerks her head to the side, flicking her blonde fur away from her eyes. The young viking pulls her chops into a tight, thin line, watching me closely all the while. I wait a long while for any movement from her, but there is none. Blasting her is out of the question too.

 

She’s near to many bushes, and the wood I’ve thrown at her would catch fire instantly. Despite my species’ destructive tendencies, burning the whole forest down isn’t really something I have my sights set on. I narrow my eyes at her, shuffling my paws around as my claws grip the wood under me in hopes of finding a stronger, tighter grip so that I don't fall off. We stay like that for a long while, neither one of us breaking our gazes.

 

The air around us slowly starts to turn colder, and as I flick my tongue out of my maw - tasting the air - I can tell that moonhigh is slowly approaching. A chilly breeze rips through the branches around me, making me shiver in my scales. I know I'm not _actually_ freezing, but I start billowing up my flame inside of me anyway. I can feel heat stir in the pit of my stomach, and a comforting warmth pinches me at the back of throat.

 

Not after too long I can feel the very marrow in my bones start to simmer gently. The smoke from the flame inside of me slips past my parted fangs and my open nostrils, rolling and tumbling away from me as a light breeze whisks the ashen tendrils of smog away. The hatchling - for the first time in what feels like eons - falters in her silent vigil as her blue eyes follow the small plumes of gray as they slip past the branches above me.

 

Is this my chance? Should I leap away and make a run for it? My eyes go sharp around the edges as my gaze flickers to the young viking’s weapon. The blade itself is glinting brightly, reflecting the dulling sun as its deadly tips shimmer. My ear flaps fall flat against my head as I continue to stare at it, my top chop rising slowly as I thrust my tongue out and up against my teeth - scraping it against the sharp points of my fangs as I let out a low, savage snarl.

 

As quick as a flash, those eyes are once again locked with mine. Only this time, the icy fierceness in them doesn't hold. Maybe it's the look in my eyes - the heart plummeting sheen of _rage_ and _anger_ and complete _hate_ that bleeds through my piercing glare - that makes the hatchling flinch. Maybe it's how my fangs are revealed in their full glory - deadly, long and _sharp -_ that makes the vice like grip her small paws have on her handle slip.

 

Or maybe it's both of those things combined.

 

I don't know, because honestly, I'm not paying attention to the hatchling anymore.

 

My slitted eyes are searing _holes_ straight through her blade, and it only takes her a second to notice the fact that my murderous eyes are settled intently on her _weapon_ and not _her._ The young viking tilts her head so that her eyes rest on her blade, before they cautiously dart back to me. My vision blurs with pure _red_ for all the things weapons like the hatchling’s have done to my kind, and when the weapon suddenly _moves_ -

 

I don't know how I manage to hold back the urge to blast the thing (and maybe accidently take the hatchling’s paw with it).

 

But she doesn’t throw it at me, and the whistling of it slicing through air never reaches my ear flaps. My eyes flicker up to meet the young viking’s, and I find myself tilting my head at her, my snarl suddenly morphing into a curious warble. The hatchling’s eyes widen - just slightly - and I think I see a bit of the ice in her gaze melt away at the edges. Her blue irises flicker back and forth from her weapon to me, and suddenly, she’s moving her blade once more.

 

I get ready for a fight, my wings extending slightly - before they fall completely limp at my sides in shock. Instead of raising her blade to attack me, she starts _lowering_ it. The hatchling’s movements are slow and cautious, and when I look up to meet her eyes I find that she’s already staring at me, gauging my reaction. It seems like hours pass, but finally the viking’s weapon is resting against the ground fully - and with just a second of hesitation - she starts to pull back her paw.

 

I’m...baffled, to say the least. No viking has _ever_ disarmed themselves (not even the green eyed hatchling) when faced with a dragon. I look at her, eyes narrowing. _::What game are you playing hatchling::_ I rumble at her, my eyes slowly softening from slits into actual pupils. She sucks in a sharp breath, looking torn between staying still and reaching for her blade once more. _:Well, she’s shown she won't hurt me, I guess the least I could do is do the same:_

 

Slowly - _very slowly_ \- I slink down to reach the lower branches of the tree I’m in, making my way down the tree nose first. The hatchling stiffens - almost reaching for her axe - and I freeze. Eyeing her blade with a glare, I look up at her, cooing in reassurance as I softly plop down onto the ground. She’s only a few feet away, and honestly, I can’t tell if she looks like she’s going to make a run for it or change her mind and attack me.

 

The hatchling’s still tense, and I take a few pawsteps back to give her some room to breathe. It works, and as the young viking exhales slightly, I watch as her small claws inch further away from the handle of her blade. I decide to take the action as a good sign. Moving slow enough so that I don’t startle the female, I start turning in a slow circle, watching as her striking blue eyes follow my every move.

 

Sucking in a breath, I suddenly shoot purple flame from my maw, heating up a firebed for me to rest on. There’s a flash of movement, and out of the corner of my eye I watch as the young viking startles at the sight of the flames. The hatchling grasps her weapon and holds it up in front of her, ready for a fight. Immediately, I snarl, crouching down low as I let my claws slip out from their sheathes.

 

My back arches slowly as I growl at her, but as a few tense seconds pass, I think she starts to realize that I wasn’t aiming to flame her - only the ground. The young hatchling slowly relaxes. I wait for her to put her weapon down once more, but the best I get is her resting the blade against the grass as she grips its handle. I huff in annoyance, eyeing her warily before I go back to heating myself up a firebed.

 

When it’s done, I plop down on it, resting my head on my forepaws as I set to licking my still sprained ankle. It’s not as bad as it was before, but my saliva helps cool the aching underneath my violet tinted ebony scales were the sprain is, and soon I get lost in healing myself. I’m so focused with my work that I don’t notice the viking hatchling as she settles down herself, resting her back against the rock she’d previously been taking shelter behind.

 

_Slink._

 

My head shoots up at the sudden noise, my ear flaps erect as the scales lining the back of my neck prickle uneasily. I know that sound: it’s the one the vikings make when they unsheathe their blades before striking scales. But when I spot where the noise sounded from, my cautiousness turns into curiosity. The young hatchling is gripping the handle of her weapon, but instead of the blade being pointed towards me, its sharp tips are dragging through the dirt.

 

I croon, getting her attention. Her irises are locked with mine not a split second later, and even though her body tenses slightly, she doesn’t move. _::Well at least it’s an improvement from twenty seconds ago::_ I mumble to myself, standing up as I pad over to where the female is. The young viking stiffens completely, but I only lean my head down, sniffing the markings on the ground as I look up at her with a questioning gaze.

 

The odd scratch marks don’t make anything, but I can see an image appearing. The hatchling’s blue eyes dart back and forth from me and her work, and I motion with my head for her to continue. She sucks in a sharp breath, before steeling herself and continuing on with her… whatever it is. I sit down on my haunches, my eyes following each of her weapon’s movements as I wait patiently for her to finish.

 

When the hatchling’s done, she pulls her blade back to her side, attaching it to something wrapped around her flank as I’m given the full view of her work. The scratch marks aren’t as clean and smooth as I’d thought they’d be, but the ending result is well enough. It’s a picture of me. Well - _most_ of me. My muzzle is drawn on the ground, with my ear flaps pressed flat against the back of my head and the flaps lining the sides of my neck flaring out.

 

My eyes are nothing more than slits, and my teeth are bared, showing the anger and hostility on my muzzle as clear as sunhigh. A few of my spines are shown rising above the back of my head because of my arching back, but after that there’s nothing else - that’s where the markings end. I tilt my head to the side, my ear flaps swirling and swiveling wildly as I lean over the picture completely to get a better look.

 

When I pull away, I glance over my shoulder to look at the young viking. She’s watching me, her chops pulled up at the corners in an odd show of emotion. I narrow my eyes at her, before I start to mimic the viking’s expression. My snout twitches as I sheathe my fangs into my gums, pulling my chops upwards as I copy the female. Her eyes go wide, and it’s almost as if she looks... _amazed._

 

I huff, my muzzle aching at the weird posture it’s at as I let my chops fall back to their original position. Looking back down at her markings on the ground, I let out a warble. _::Can I try::_ I ask her, my ear flaps pricked in anticipation. Drawing looks _fun!_ The young hatchling’s flat muzzle furrows in confusion, her ears unused to my unfamiliar tongue. I huff. I hate that the vikings can’t speak dragonese, yet we can understand their odd tongue.

 

Well... _most_ of it, at least.

 

Finally, I just decide to act instead of ask. _:It’s easier to ask for forgiveness rather than permission:_ I tell myself, before jumping to all fours. The hatchling, startled, jerks backwards on her perch. I leap forward, and just as the young viking lets out a yelp of surprise, I latch my gums around the handle of her blade. Tugging, I pull it free from its sheathe, before I turn and bound back to my original spot. “ Hey! Give that back! ” I crane my head backwards, locking eyes with the hatchling.

 

That’s the first time I’ve heard her talk.

 

She looks mad - _really_ mad. For a split second, I contemplate giving her the weapon back, before I shake it off. _:Nah. She’ll get over it:_ I huff. Crouching down, I place the tip of the blade against the ground, before I start walking backwards. My ear flaps prick as I listen to the angry pawsteps of the hatchling pause, and as I flicker my gaze upwards, I almost laugh at the dumbfounded expression placed upon her muzzle.

 

The female looks surprised, to say the least. Her blue irises are both wide with shock and narrowed with confusion. I grunt at her, my ear flaps flicking, as I twist my body around and continue dragging the weapon’s head through the dirt. I know the object in my maw is stained with my own kind’s blood, and I want nothing more than to crush it between my jaws, but I hold myself back. Ruining it will do nothing to keep the fragile peace between me and the hatchling going.

 

I don’t have a single clue what kind of picture I’m making, but I jump around and twirl back and forth, making random lines in the dirt. I can feel my haunches wiggling as my ear flaps swirl wildly, my veins alight with a small sense of adrenaline. When I’m done, I pull my head back, shifting my hold on the weapon’s handle so that it doesn’t slip out. I glance back over my shoulder, waiting for the hatchling to comment on my work.

 

The female steps forward, her eyes roaming across the markings strewn everywhere as that odd chops-turned-upwards expression crosses her muzzle once more. She tilts her head all around, stepping over the lines of my drawing as she explores the whole thing. When the young viking looks up to meet my gaze, I stand still in anticipation - waiting to hear what she has to say. “ It’s…” The hatchling pauses, looking back at the ground. “ Incredible. ”

 

 _::I know::_ I yip at her, crooning at my own work as I glance at it. It doesn’t look like anything, but I’m still proud of it. _:Not bad for my first try:_ I look up as the sound of pawsteps reach my ear flaps, and my snout twitches as I catch sight of the young hatchling making her way towards me. The female takes extra care to step _over_ my lines and not on them, for which I warble at her in thanks. She looks up at me.

 

Sniffing the air, I jerk my head back at the light aroma of fear scent suddenly staining the area, and I notice that it’s coming from the _hatchling._ I look back at her, my head tilted in confusion. She wasn’t scared when I was trying to _kill her,_ so why is she frightful now? As the young viking draws nearer and nearer to me, her pawsteps get slower and more cautious. Carefully, she reaches out one of her small paws. “ Now, I need my axe back. ”

 

_Oh._

 

Right, that could be a problem.

 

I look down at the weapon currently being held in my maw, the edges of my eyes sharpening as I snort distastefully at the object. Blades like this one have been the reason many of my kin have fallen, and I wrinkle my snout, my top chop pulling back slightly as I bare my teeth at the weapon. The viking hatchling’s outstretched paw curls into a ball at the sight of my snarl, and I hesitate with my actions, eyeing her warily.

 

Blue eyes peer back at me just as equally sharp, and my scales tingle as I feel her gaze cut through my flesh and bone and reach my soul. _::Why::_ I finally settled on asking her. I know her Viking Nest is built upon many different weapons, some even sharper and deadlier than this one - I’ve _seen_ them - and yet why does she want _this one_ back? : _:You could get a new one easily, why is this blade so special to you::_

 

I watch as she visibly bristles at the question, and even though I know she can’t understand the tongue I speak, for a second I almost wonder how things would turn out if she did. I push the thought away, instead diverting all my focus onto the female before me. Her pink paw is still hovering near the handle of her blade, and out of the corner of my eye I can see her claws twitching, as if she’s physically forcing herself _not_ snatch the weapon away from me.

 

The young viking swallows, her eyes narrowing, but the blue in them is duller - not as cold as it used to be just a second ago. “ That axe was a gift from my mother. ” I blink, confused, and as I tilt my head in questioning I can tell she notices too. Hatchlings form strong bonds with both their mother and sire, but actual objects of affection are...unheard of - to say the least. Love is shown through a grooming, or a nose, not... _things._

 

The viking hatchling before me huffs, her small fangs now bared as the bridge of her nose crinkles in annoyance. I can feel the scales lining the back of my neck flaring upwards at her show of dominance, but I push my instincts down, knowing that she doesn’t understand my species’ ways of challenging one’s power. Instead, my ear flaps swirl as she speaks, prickling at the tips as I struggle only slightly to understand her words.

 

“ It’s the last thing I have of her. ” I tilt my head at the slight crack in the female’s voice, all traces of sharpness once adorning my pupils quickly disappearing. I sniff the air, my tongue flicking out to prod at a new scent that drifts towards me. I coo in understanding as I finally taste the aroma floating through the breeze. _::You’re sad::_ Slowly, as to not startle the hatchling, I rise from my resting position and start towards her.

 

I can see her stiffen slightly, but she makes no move to run or attack, so I continue on. Her outstretched paw retreats back to her side the closer I get, and as I stop so close to her that my snout could almost tap against her’s, her claws are pressed against her leg, almost as if she is truly afraid. For a second, I wonder if she is. I quickly shake the thought away though, taking in the calm and almost eerily serene expression covering her flat muzzle.

 

I’m close enough to the young viking that now I can _truly_ look directly into her eyes, and I swear a little bit of air escapes my lungs as amethyst ire locks with blazing sapphire. We just stare at each other, neither one of us making a move as our breaths mingle in the small space left between us. Finally though, I tilt my snout upwards, my ear flaps flicking as I grunt at her. Without warning, I jerk my head downwards and open my maw.

 

A small yelp of surprise slips past the female viking’s chops as her paws shoot out, swiftly catching her axe before it crashes against the ground. I chuff in amusement as she scowls at the strings of slobber criss crossing across her blade’s handle, but her irises dart back upwards to lock with a mine, that odd expression once again graces her chops. Tail swishing lightly, my fangs disappear into my gums, and I copy her.

 

A sound I’ve never heard come from the hatchling - or _any_ viking, actually - suddenly rings throughout the air. My ear flaps shoot upwards, swirling wildly in wonderment as a noise as soothing as trickling water yet as sharp as claws clashing continues to emanate from the young viking. Her eyes find mine again, and even as her laughter dies away, the happiness never leaves her snout.

 

I yip happily at the sight of silent joy making her twin pools of blue positively _glow_ and she just shakes her head, wiping her paws against the cloths adorning her body to clean herself of my saliva. “ Thank you. ” I almost miss the words, but I catch them just in time. My nose twitches as my tongue flicks past my chops, dipping into the aromas floating through the air mindlessly. I can taste her happiness and her relief, but most of all, her gratitude.

 

I narrow my eyes at her almost playfully.

 

 _::You are an...odd viking::_ I croon at her, my wings ruffling at my sides as I perch myself on the rock she had previously been resting against while scratching at the dirt. The female just runs one of her paws through the tuft of fur sitting atop her head, a light sheen of sweat that I hadn’t noticed before glistening in the falling sunlight. Slowly getting lost in my head, my thoughts drift back to that of the green eyed hatchling.

 

Both him and the blue eyed viking are different from the rest of their kind - similar in that way - and yet at the same time, they’re nothing like each other. Where the boy is hesitant and fearful, the female is calculating and bold. Where he’d backed up when approached by the Nightcrawler, she’d barely flinched when I was inches away from her. And where the male hatchling had offered fish as a peace offering, the female had offered me her blade.

 

 _:Then again,_ he _came of his own free will and I barged into her business:_ I huff at my own thoughts, shaking my head and haunches as my ear flaps slap harshly against the sides of my violet and ebony neck. _:And yet, she didn’t attack me:_ Resting her blade against the ground could've just been a ploy to get me out of the tree for a clearer shot, but even then the female had never actually fought against me.

 

I narrow my lilac irises in thought, my tongue swiping across my snout as I huff, contemplating everything I know about the female hatchling as I watch the foggy tendrils of my escaped breath slowly rise through the air. Both her and the scrawnier hatchling had the chance to kill either me or the Nightcrawler, and yet when it came down to it, they used their weapons to do the opposite of what they had been created for.

 

Blades are meant to bring harm and contribute to wars, not to set free and present peace. _:But that’s exactly what the hatchlings used them for:_ I mull over the thought for a split second before a sliver of memory flashes before my conscience. _:::A flash of silver catches my attention, and out of the corner of my eye I watch as the hatchling stealthily reaches for his fallen weapon. The blade glints against the falling moonlight as he points the tip at the Nightcrawler's side:::_

 

In a flash, my ear flaps are pressed as harshly against my skull as possible, my chops pulling back without hesitation as I snarl at the memory. I’m not aware of when I unsheathe my claws, but suddenly they’re digging into the rock beneath me, sinking into the boulder as if it’s made of flesh and bone and not stone. The sound of rustling leaves and a twig snapping jerks me away from my angry stupor, and I swivel my head to the side.

 

Immediately, my violaceous eyes - which had shrunken into slits at the recollection of the viking boy’s actions - find the female hatchling. The blue eyed viking - having obviously been startled by my menacing growl - is hunched over slightly, instinct causing her small pink paw to now hover over the handle of her weapon as her irises shine with a rare alertness I’ve only ever seen in my own orbs.

 

Instinct and fear scream at me at the sight of her preparing for an attack - urging me to do the same, but I force myself not to listen to the voices inside of my head. Instead, I let my ear flaps raise slowly, the spines lining my back quivering even as my pupils round out from their slitted forms. I watch as the young viking relaxes more and more with every move I make, lowering her paw away from her blade’s handle as I shift from furious to impossibly calm.

 

 _:All for the hatchling’s comfort:_ The little voice growls the words against the edge of my conscience, chiding me. _:Why are you doing all of this for her? Why aren’t you_ attacking _her?! She’s a_ viking! _Her kind has killed_ hundreds _of us:_ My snout twitches, my paws pressing tightly against the stone lying underneath me as I push down the urge to snap and growl. _:And we’ve killed_ thousands _of them:_ I argue back, small wisps of smoke slipping past my flaring nostrils.

 

I want so much to arch my back and snarl - to have my fangs bared for all to see as the flaps running along the sides of my neck shoot out and press almost painfully against the backsides of my jaw. But I don’t. I have to control myself, at least while I’m around the female viking, or else I’ll lose my head - both figuratively and literally. I almost snort at the small joke, settling on instead just rolling my eyes, the violet coloring of them almost glowing in the growing darkness.

 

I lay my head down on my two front paws, my ear flaps swiveling and flicking as I listen to the sounds of the forest around me. With my eyes closed, every other sense in my body comes alive. I can hear every wingstroke of the bugs that fly overhead, I can smell the sap and dew of the trees losing their warmth and cooling over for the approaching moonhigh, and I can taste the sweat and always present determination of the hatchling somewhere around me.

 

Huffing in content, I let my tongue peek out of the corner of my mouth, tasting the scents in the air as I feel myself slowly drifting off. My ear flaps droop, falling flat against the back of my skull in rest. Just as the pleasant darkness fully surrounds me, I pick up the faint sound of a weapon impending wood. _Thunk._ And even as the almost silent sound instinctively gets some of my blood running, I’m too deep in rest to wake myself back up.

 

And just like that, everything fades.

 

I don’t dream about anything, and not for the first time in my life, my rest is fitful. Hours pass, flying by as quick as seconds, and before I know it my eyelids crack open. Immediately, my maw splits open in a large yawn, my teeth sheathing themselves as I run my tongue around my gums and lick my nose. As I slowly become more aware to my surroundings I ruffle my wings, opening my eyes as I blink, glad that darkness welcomes me and not the harsh light of sunhigh.

 

Another yawn escapes me as I stand up on all fours, arching my back as my ear flaps swirl at the sound of my muscles stretching and bones popping. I let out a small chuff, my nostrils flaring as my chin tilts upwards, violet eyes scanning the area around me. As I suck in I breath, the sharp scents of chilly moonhigh invade my lungs, making my chest burn as I instinctively start burning my flame inside of me in an attempt to stay warm.

 

_Thunk._

 

I startle at the sound, the scales lining the back of my neck rising as my top chop twitches and lifts upwards. I barely acknowledge the sound of my claws popping out of their sheathes, instead opting to thrash my tail in a full circle and I let my tailfins flare widely, showing my aggravation. Just as a snarl claws its way up through my windpipe and is about to slip off the forked tips of my tongue, I realize just where the noise is coming from.

 

The blue eyed hatchling doesn’t acknowledged my awakening, and as my hackles smooth over and the crinkles covering the bridge of my snout disappear, I tilt my head in curiosity. _Thunk._ I wince at the sound, my wings pressing against my sides as the phantom scent of blood and death plays at my nostrils. That sound - it’s the last thing to be heard before one after another of my kin fall in the raids. _:::Screeches of pain, the sound of wings beating desperately - :::_

 

I force the flashbacks away, shaking my head as I sheathe my claws and hop down from the slab of stone I’ve been sleeping on for the past… _:Hmm. How long was I at rest:_ I ask myself, silently wondering what time it is. Tilting my head backwards, my sharp gaze catches sight of the lighting of the sky. Dark orange and purple scour across the once brilliant sea of blue, and where white clouds use to be splattered everywhere, now nothing but gray mist remains.

 

Snorting, I slowly pad forward, ducking down slightly as I pick up speed and stop right next to the young viking. The female startles at my sudden appearance, peering at me out of the corner of her eye, before she turns back and starts throwing her blade. I narrow my eyes at her, tilting my head to the side as I watch her movements carefully. I can see the muscles under her skin flex and strain, and my ear flaps swivel as each of her actions are silent and played with ease.

 

 _::So you’ve been doing this for a long time::_ I observe. The hatchling looks at me curiously, but once more goes back to her practice after a few seconds, unresponsive to my words. I huff, rolling my eyes as I stretch out my wings and pop my back. “ You slept for hours. ” I almost don’t catch the young viking’s words, but once I do I look up at her, licking my nose as I shrug. _::I’m a dragon, I need my beauty rest::_

 

I _know_ she can’t understand me, but the blue eyed female lets out a huff, her chops twitching in that slightly amused expression. Taking a few steps closer to her, I pull myself up to my full height while still on all fours, easily towering over her as her head suddenly only reaches to my chest. I watch as she stiffens, the grip on her weapon tightening as she twirls the blade in her paw in what looks like warning, but I ignore the signs.

 

Instead, I lean down to sniff the head of odd fur perched atop her flat muzzle, ruffling the blonde wisps as I huff and coo at her in questioning. _::Vikings don’t speak my tongue, but you’re different hatchling - so alike to them yet not. I can’t tell if that’s good or bad, but some part of me does wonder: are you even viking at all::_ She doesn’t answer me and something stirs inside my stomach, telling me she’s showing defiance even as my brain screams that she’s just clueless.

 

I huff, giving up the internal debate as I roll my eyes and sink back down to my regular height. The hatchling relaxes once more, but she doesn’t go back to her practice. Instead, the young female reaches down to rest her blade against her side, the handle of her weapon slipping into a small crevice wrapped around her waist with a quiet _click,_ proceeding to then hang alongside her flank without the help of her paws.

 

 _::What are you doing::_ I ask her quizzically, confused by her actions. Blue irises lock with lilac orbs and I tilt my head to the side, my ear flaps swirling as I watch the azure flecks in her eyes sharpen, her muzzle screwing up into an intense and concentrated expression. It seems like eons pass before she speaks, her tone different from any other time I’ve heard it: curious and somehow lighter. “ A dragon will _always_ go for the kill. ”

 

The words send an involuntary shiver racing down my spine, and like instinct my fire starts burning inside of me at the plain accusation, hot and alive and ready to kill. But I want to hear the rest of what she has to say, so I clench down on the growing flames, willing myself to hold back on mercilessly flaming the young hatchling. “ That’s what I’ve been told - practically _preached_ \- my entire life. But now I’m asking myself: why haven’t you? ”

 

I blink. Once, twice. My ear flaps swivel at her words, something in my gut clenching at her tone - not flat and dead but not holding any real emotion either. Suddenly though, I’m asking myself the same question. _:Why_ haven’t _I:_ There’s no answer waiting to reply back at the end of the question, but the thought repeats itself inside of my head over and over again, bouncing off and echoing through the inner walls of my mind.

 

The blue eyed viking suddenly crouches down, looking me directly in the eye as our snouts are now barely inches apart. I almost jerk back at the intrusion of my personal space, my mind telling me to put this lower species before me in her place, but I immediately stifle the thought. Up close, I can really see the work of the hatchling’s eyes. There’s a brilliant ring of sparkling blue outlining her whole orb, shining and glittering as brightly as the ocean when it reflects the night stars.

 

Swirling behind the ocean colored border is a sea of a shocking pale blue, so dull that that color looks more like biting frost more than anything else. Random specks of yellow and green are splattered across both colors, and right smack dab in the middle of it all is her ebony iris, as dark and empty as death. It reminds me of the Mother. I shiver once more, unease making my claws involuntarily slip out of their sheathes. It’s the hatchling’s voice that tears me from my thoughts.

 

“ Why _haven’t_ you? ” It’s a repeat of her previous question, but her words are stronger, her tone is more determined and her eyes - her eyes burn with such a bright, blazing fire of pure _need_ that I can’t deny her an answer. I hesitate though, the words catching in my throat. The hatchling’s body is tense, her veins alight with something - a bursting fire of curiosity, but for a moment I am afraid. If I fan the flames they will only grow larger - consuming the female viking.

 

If I don’t though, they will die to nothing more than ember remains. I shake my head, snorting at the thought. The young viking before me startles, backing away slightly, but still not moving from her crouched position. Amethyst irises lock with frozen pools of blue, clashing like bared fangs and unsheathed claws. Chills suddenly grip my spine, making me shiver in my own scales as I unsheathe my claws, tethering myself to the ground below my paws.

 

Where the hatchling once would’ve tensed at the sight, she now ignores it completely, instead flicking her head to the side in an attempt to move her blonde mane away from her eyes. Finally, I shake my own head, my ear flaps slapping against the sides of my neck harshly as I tilt my head upwards. My gaze rakes over the darkening sky, violet irises reflecting the glittering stars above. I spot the moon, crooning at the sight.

 

I can feel the blue eyed hatchling next to me stir at the sound, also craning her flat muzzle upwards as she views the ebony and silver splattered sky. Her frosty irises narrow in thought, probably realizing that she has to get back to her Nest. I blink, looking back at her as I snort, gesturing towards the woods, now nothing more than a dark canopy of shadows and clustered splotches of inky black.

 

The female viking glances at me, as if still waiting for an answer to her previous question. She continues like that for what seems like hours, before she sighs, finally accepting that she won’t be getting one. My wings weigh heavy against my flank in twisted guilt. _::It’s not that I don’t want to answer your question hatchling, it’s just that…::_ She blinks at me, curious at the sound of my warbles. I look down, my tail swishing across the ground sadly. _::I_ can’t _::_

 

I don’t look up - don’t look the viking hatchling in the eyes. A second later my ear flaps prick as I pick up sounds of movement. I listen as leaves and twigs crunch and crackle under the pawsteps of the female viking, minutes dragging by as the noises slowly start to fade away, until I can’t hear anything of her anymore. Slowly, I look up, my snout twitching. The scent of the hatchling is still present - sharp and cold and filled with the aromas of battle - but is already growing stale.

 

I stretch my neck outwards, flicking my tongue out to taste the air. My ears swivel and twist wildly, trying to see if I can hear her if I try hard enough, but she’s too far away. I turn towards where the hatchling’s scent leads, blinking at the space between two towering oaks - the place where she’d probably entered the clearing as well as left it. I don’t know how long I stand there, but even as the air around me grows chillier, I don’t do anything to warm myself up.

 

The hatchling hadn’t said anything in response to my words, but for some reason, I feel like she didn’t need to. The young viking has never known my tongue, and even though I can understand viking speech, sometimes I find its meanings hard to fathom. But for the first time since I’ve known about her kind, some part of me - a part that’s lead by the will of my heart instead of the logic of my head - has no doubt whatsoever that she’d understood me.

 

Even if she couldn’t make out what I’d said word for word, I _know_ that some part of the blue eyed hatchling had gotten it. And it’s that, more than anything, that makes my takeoff from the ground easy and light - almost freeing. I know I should be more conflicted about the fact that I didn’t kill the young viking - didn’t avenge the countless deaths of my kin dealt by the paws of her kind - but I’m not. I tilt my wings, breathing in the chilly night air as it nips at my lungs.

 

I’m not angry or sad or confused, because for the first time in my life…

 

I’m too busy being happy.


	3. Inner Conflicts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astrid faces some inner conflict regarding our mystery Night Fury: she doesn't know whether she should trust it or kill it. When she makes her decision at the end of the day, it spells trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it’s been awhile since I posted anything, but I hope this makes up for that. We’re slowly progressing into the actual plot, so you only have to be patient for a little while longer! For all those who are actually dropping comments, kudos, favorites, follows, and bookmarks, thank you so much! I’m very much aware that this won’t be a popular fic. but I’m totally okay with that. I just hope that the people who are actually taking a chance on this story like it. I’m just going to be switching on and off between Astrid and our mystery Night Fury every chapter like I’ve been doing so, and I’ll notify you beforehand if that changes. Also, I forgot to mention before but…
> 
> :::Dragon dreams and/or flashbacks:::  
> ::Dragon speech::  
> :Dragon thoughts:
> 
> (Of course they'll also be in italics) 
> 
> You’ve probably already figured that out by now, but I wanted to mention it anyway. Also, in the last chapter’s author note I said that Heather wouldn’t be showing up until much later in the story - and while that still might be true - I’ve been thinking over the plotline of this fic. and I’ve changed a few things, so she might be appearing sooner than you think. With that being said, let’s get to it!

“ And with one twist - he _took_ my hand and _swallowed it whole!_ ” Gobber exaggerates dramatically, waving his roasted chicken around in the air as his remaining hand swings around, forcing me to duck my head so that he doesn’t accidentally decapitate me. He doesn’t turn to apologize, and I don’t ask him to. We’re both so focused on something else that neither of us can even spare the time to care very much.

 

“ And I saw the look on his face - _I was_ _delicious._ He must’ve passed the word, because it wasn’t a month later before another one of them _took my leg._ ” Just for the sake of pretending that I’m actually listening, I spare a glance at Gobber’s wooden pegleg, forcing my eyes to shine with interest even though I have no idea what he’s talking about. I look away, staring back into the flames before me.

 

They flicker and dance dangerously, licking at the air as the logs of wood being consumed crackle and pop shrilly. The flames remind me of a different kind of fire though...a _blazing, bright, pulsing_ liquid fire of dark and light purple that I’ve only ever seen burn in a pair of amethyst irises. My veins grow cold at the thought of those pair of eyes staring back at me through the flickering of the bonfire, but I don’t shiver.

 

Instead, I lean sideways as Fishlegs almost knocks into me with the chicken leg that he’s waving in the air as he talks in the same fashion as our Dragon Training Instructor. I throw him a frosty glare, but look away a moment later, not bothered enough to chew him out about it. I do catch the last words of his sentence though. “ - you could’ve killed the dragon from the inside by...crushing it’s heart, or something. ”

 

A beat of silence.

 

As I turn away from the husky blonde with a slight roll of my eyes, I notice that I’m not the only one who’d given him an odd look. “ I swear _I’m so angry_ right now. I’ll avenge your beautiful hand _and_ your beautiful foot. I’ll chop off the legs of every dragon I fight - _with my face._ ” I don’t even bother scowling at Snotlout’s words, to use to his natural arrogance to even attempt to make him understand the _sheer_ _impossibility_ of his promise.

 

Gobber’s reply though, are words that I actually pay attention to. “ Nh uh uh - it’s the _wings and tails_ you really want. If it can’t fly, it can’t get away - a _downed_ dragon, is a _dead_ dragon. ” Murmurs of excitement and understanding follow his sentence, making me stifle a sigh as I can practically _see_ the gears turning in each and every one of the other teens’ heads. Suddenly, Gobber stands up, yawning widely as he scratches his belly.

 

“ Alright, I’m off to bed - and you should be too. Tomorrow we get to the big boys, slowly but surely working our way up to the _Monstrous Nightmare_ \- but who’ll win the honor of _killing it?_ ” Tuffnut sets down his food next to the bonfire - probably not the best idea in of itself - and winks at me as he states confidently, “ It’s gonna be me - it’s my destiny, see? ” Next to me, Fishlegs gasps loudly. “ Your mom let you get a _tattoo?_ ”

 

Uninterested pools of azure flicker to the side, widening in surprise when they land on an empty seat. _Where’s Hiccup?_ I don’t even have a chance to process the thought before my body is moving, silently laying my chicken down and stepping around Gobber as I near the watch tower’s staircase. As I wind the corner, I almost miss the blur of auburn hair that reaches the foot of the steps before disappearing into the darkness of Berk.

 

For a second I narrow my eyes in curiosity, wondering where in Thor’s name he’s off to at this hour. _Then again, he’s Hiccup -_ no one _knows what he’s up to half of the time._ The thought makes me shake my head in exasperation as I turn around, making my way back to my seat as I pick up my chicken and barely acknowledge Tuffnut’s words. “ Yes it was! You’ve just never seen me from the left side until now. ”

 

As Gobber spots me walking back inside the watch tower he turns around, letting out a frustrated sigh when he finally notices that Hiccup isn’t in his seat anymore. The Dragon Training Instructor throws his gaze onto me, cocking an eyebrow in quiet questioning as I rip off a small piece of meat and nibble on it. _Do you know where he went?_ I stare right back at him, shaking my head in a silent answering. _No clue._

 

The older viking grunts in disdain, but shakes his head a second later, going back to focusing on his students who’d actually bothered to stay for the whole lecture. I share Gobber’s annoyance, but a small part of me can’t help but envy Hiccup in this moment. He can just slip away unnoticed whenever he wants without worry of being found, but me? - I can’t do that. I have to stay for the lectures, go to the class gatherings, and participate _one hundred percent_ in training.

 

 _I_ can’t get even one second of relaxation, whereas Stoick’s son can’t get enough of it. I shake my head, blinking harshly as I force the thought away. _He_ can sneak away whenever he likes because he doesn’t have a reputation on the line, but I’m actually _doing this_ for something - I have a _reason._ And I won’t rest until the Hofferson name has earned back its title of fearless. It’s as if the thought itself roots my feet to the ground, making me feel solid again.

 

Suddenly, my blood starts running faster, pumping with adrenaline and ready for anything. I’m snapped out of my silent stupor as the other teens around me start shuffling and standing up, grabbing their leftover food as they follow Gobber down the watch tower’s staircase. I follow more slowly, taking my time in picking away the meet on my chicken before I throw the bones and stick into the dying flames in front of me one by one.

 

When I’m finally done, the others are gone, and the fire is completely dead. I look up, gazing at the night sky as a thousand twinkling stars stare back at me. I tilt my head and squint my eyes, trying to see if I can catch a glimpse of anything beyond the darkness - beyond the boundaries of even Valhalla. But there’s nothing. A cold breeze whips past me, stinging my lungs as I take in a deep breath. An involuntary shudder grips my spine, making me pull my legs close to my chest.

 

I don’t know why I don’t just get up and walk back to my hut, but I stay - still and unmoving - even as the air around me grows colder by the second. Without thinking, I start rubbing my thumbs in small circles over the skin of my arms, as if the tiny movements will somehow make me warmer. They don’t, and even though I fight it, the chilly air and now stagnant scent of ash and burnt meat hanging in the breeze lulls me away into a fitful sleep.

 

_I don’t look back._

 

_I can’t._

 

 _Because I know that if I do, she’ll catch me_.

 

_The dragon._

 

 _I can’t focus on the thought of her though, so instead I run. I run through the canopy and around the trees, over trunks and fallen logs, and across a small stream with towering rocks._ _I run and run and run and don’t look back as I do - not even once. There’s no wind or breeze flitting throughout the forest, making each crunching of my footfalls and the rustling of the leaves I brush against as I rush pass them all that more louder._

 

_Images and thoughts fill my head, every single one of them of the dragon._

 

_Without warning, the world around me swirls and shifts, making me jerk backwards uncomfortably. Suddenly, my palms are pressed against harsh wood as dust and ash surrounds me, making me choke as I breathe in. I try blinking, embers and hot air crusting at my eyelids as I wince, black filling my vision. Glacier blue irises attempt to look around once more, turning into chips of sharded ice as soon as they land on the creature standing not five feet away._

 

 _She’s beautiful: with a body of pure muscle and strength, claws and spines as sharp as any blade_ , _and with_ _jagged amethyst markings proudly riddling her ebony death scales. Without my consent, a knot starts violently constricting in my stomach, making my throat clench as I dig my fingernails into the grooves of the wall behind me. The ebony beast cocks its head to the side, the line of knob-ish flaps lining its jaw quivering in curiosity._

 

 _Its amaranthine eyes narrow slightly as the female dragon takes a cautious step forward, its back arched in warning as it cranes its neck to get a better view of me. I narrow my own irises in questioning._ Did its pupils just get...rounder? _The thought vanishes as soon as the creature huffs, hot air brushing against my face as a bead of sweat trails down the back of my neck. In a split second, the air around me grows impossibly thicker, making it hard for me to breathe._

 

_For the first time, I notice the grotesque aroma of sweat drafting in from around all directions, a musky hint of ash and blood clotting my nostrils, finding solace in the back of my throat and at the roof of my mouth. I watch as the dragon’s ear flaps prick at the sound of crackling wood and the bursting of beams snapping at the hinges. I strain my own ears, just barely managing to make out faint viking battle cries and savage roars that seem to grow louder and louder by the second._

 

_Even with the dragon raid raging on just outside my hut though, my complete focus is on the violaceous eyed creature in front of me. It definitely isn’t a hatchling, but it doesn’t look like a full grown adult either - with wings too small and a body too lean. My eyes flit to the spear head like spines littering its back, the light of invisible flames glittering off the ebony bones. I take in a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart._

 

_I can feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins along with the pounding of blood thrumming against my eardrums, the rhythmic throbbing reaching all the way down to my fingertips. The dragon starts moving forward, before pausing, and instead settles for letting out a low chur. It lets the flap outlining the back of its neck flare outwards in a questioning fashion, as if it’d noticed my change of attitude._

 

 _For the first time since I’d been running_ away _from the dragon in the forest, I allow myself to relax slightly - exchanging my caution for barely restrained wonderment as I cock my head to the side. Much to my surprise, the mauve stained creature tilts her head too, mimicking me as it tucks its wings tighter against its sides. It doesn’t_ look like _it’s going to attack me. It just looks...curious. I shake my head, confused beyond belief._

 

_Every instinct is raging at me to attack, to take action, but how can I? My hands weigh heavy with the absence of any weapon, and I’m cornered with no means of escape. I huff, watching as the dragon’s ear flaps perk up at the sound, before slowly lowering to rest against the back of its skull. Without warning, the dragon suddenly darts forward, and I move with instinct. I roll away, a loud snapping of wood and the roaring of flames echoing me._

 

 _Before I move anymore though, a weight suddenly crashes down on me, knocking the breath out of my lungs as the back of my head_ thwacks _violently against the floor. For a second time the world spins, except now there are stars dancing around in my vision too. “ For Thor’s sake! ” I spit, forcing my vision to clear as I try to push myself up. I yelp when a massive muzzle suddenly pushes against my face, a gust of hot air brushing my bangs backwards._

 

_I look up, my blood running cold as a dark pair of lilac irises stare back at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I’m faintly aware of the fact that the wooden walls of the hut have disappeared, and have instead been replaced by thick, jagged slabs of bloodstained stone with a boundless fencing of rusted chains and poles acting as a roof. It takes a split second for me to process my new surroundings, but when I do, I can feel my heart plummeting._

 

_I’m in the Kill Ring._

 

_The monster on top of me snarls, its claws unsheathing as the tips pierce my skin and poke ragged holes into my tunic. I hiss in pain, adrenaline pumping through my veins and kicking me into action as I slam my elbow against the ebony dragon’s snout. It roars in fury, purple eyes blazing with a fierce hate as I roll away and swiftly jump up, my blue irises darting around the arena in hopes of finding a weapon._

 

_I almost scowl when I realize that there are none._

 

_I don’t have any time to curse the gods though, because not a second later the female dragon leaps for me again, its ear flaps pinned against the back of its head as its neck flap flares outwards, making her seem bigger. I duck under the winged creature, trying to evade its quick movements, but it’s back on me in a flash. A burst of hot white pain grips my arm, making me scream out as warm blood splatters across my face and drips down my body._

 

 _The loud_ snap _of a bone breaking deafens me, and in a blind state I reach forward, successfully piercing the dragon’s eye with my fingers. It screeches with pain, letting go of my arm before it whips its tail out and smacks me with it. I go tumbling down, heart racing and breaths ragged as my knees crash against the stone floor and my palms are sliced open by the loose rocks scattered across the ground._

 

_I reach for one with numb fingers, turning around to throw it at the beast, before I’m knocked down once more. A sense of dread digs its way into my heart, but I struggle anyway, trying to stab the creature’s thick hide with the stones in my hand. She just slashes at my palms though, tearing flesh and skin apart as I grit my teeth and silently howl at the pain. I try to open my eyes, blood and barely suppressed tears making my vision blotchy._

 

_I can’t see anything, but I can hear the ebony dragon snarl._

 

_It’s the last thing that reaches my ears before I feel sharp fangs tear at my throat._

 

I startle awake, gasping and shaking, my whole body wracked with sweat as I fumble blindly and fall off the bench of Berk’s watch tower. For a split second, I’m blind, and I scramble to my feet as my body thrums with fear and adrenaline mixed together. In the back of my head, I faintly wonder if this is how the Berserkers feel when they go into a rage. The thought doesn’t last long though, as my legs give out from under me and I collapse.

 

I just barely manage to reach out and grab the bench I’d fallen off of, my knuckles white and my whole body shivering with sweat as I hold onto the wooden structure like a lifeline. Every breath makes my lungs sting painfully, but I force myself to keep breathing. _In. Out. In. Out._ My heart doesn’t stop racing, but the blood pounding against the insides of my skull quiets down somewhat, allowing me to finally grasp a straw of control over myself.

 

I tilt my head upwards, every muscle and bone protesting at the small movement. Oceanic orbs glow sharply in contrast to the night shadows around them, slowly growing duller as my eyesight adjusts to the dark lighting. The moon and stars hang high in the sky, casting a silvery pelt across Berk, making the still village seem eerily vacant. I close my eyes, trying to catch my breath as my heart rate finally starts slowing down bit by bit.

 

When I open them again, I’m no longer shivering from the memories of the nightmare, but instead from the freezing breeze that’s being carried from the sea onto the island. My arms scream in exhaustion as I haul myself onto my feet, stumbling slightly as I reach out and grip the wooden beams of the watch tower to steady myself. I don’t move quickly, but soon enough I’m making my way down the staircase.

 

As I make my way towards my hut, I can’t help but recall the events of my dream - especially the last part. _A savage snarl, a roar of fury, then pain - pain, pain, pain and blood - sticky, warm, red blood. Red and red and red - red like the dawn - red everywhere...blood everywhere. Then darkness. Then death._ Something like a mix between a strangled gasp and a scream of rage tries to crawl up out of my throat, making me choke as my vision swirls.

 

I double over, my fingers digging into the gravel and dirt of the village square under me as phantom pain laces across and through my veins, making my neck tingle as if its being licked by the whispers of flames. I run a hand over my throat, trying to force myself to remember that there’s no wound there - that it was only a dream. Once I’ve gathered my bearings again, I finally accomplish making my way towards my hut.

 

Every movement I make while trying to get to my room is numb and automatic, leaving my thoughts to wander. _You’re suppose to be a viking._ The voice is faint - not really there - but I cringe at the words all the same. _I am!_ I try to defend myself, but my answer is weak, and the response I get makes my insides sting even more. _Then why didn’t you kill it?_ I don’t know at what point it was that I entered my room, but I suddenly find myself standing beside my bed, clutching the post.

 

I just stand there - staring at my hands, watching as I dig my fingernails into the grooves of the wood - harder and harder, until a few splinters break off and pierce my flesh. I don’t hiss in pain, or even wince, but I pull my hands back to my sides all the same, sitting myself on the edge of my bed as a war rages on inside of my mind. I don’t need to be told who the _it_ is that the voice is speaking of, I already know -

 

The dragon.

 

I try to scowl at the thought of the beast - try to bring myself to feel the deep hatred and blazing want for revenge that I’ve always felt whenever the creatures are mentioned - but I can’t. Instead, guilt rises up inside of me, along with shame and disgust and strangely enough... _fear._ The emotions aren’t directed at the dragon though. No, instead, I feel them for _myself._ Guilt: because I lowered my axe when I should’ve raised it higher.

 

Shame: because to not spill the blood of my enemy whenever given the chance is a disgrace, and instead of reviving the Hofferson name, all I’ve done is darken it more. Disgust: because I’ve killed dragons before, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to slay this one. Fear, though? Well, there’s many reasons I feel fear - almost too many to wrap my head around - but I feel fear for what would happen if the other villagers ever found out.

 

They would curse me to Hel and shame me, no doubt, but they wouldn’t be surprised. They would probably mutter under their breaths and whisper into each other’s ears about how they’d seen it coming - about how it’d been the wicked hand of fate dealt to me that demanded I would follow in the previous Hofferson’s footsteps and bring shame upon my family name by betraying the village - by betraying the viking way.

 

But most of all, I feel fear for the conflict I would be at if I ever saw the ebony dragon again. I wouldn’t be able to decide to kill it or not - I would hesitate, like I did before - because I realize now that despite how much I want to prove to myself that _I am_ a true viking! - I also don’t want to hurt it. I don’t want to hurt _her._ The thought alone fills my lungs like water, choking me, drowning me - until I can’t breathe.

 

I’ve never felt this much fear before in my life.

 

 _“ A dragon is a viking’s worst enemy -_ never _forget that. ”_ Gobber’s words ring inside of my skull, echoing across the memories of me and the female dragon, chiding me. It’d been one of the first pieces of advice - more like a reminder - he’d given to me and the other Dragon Trainees when we’d first started training. Dragons are suppose to be vicious, _savage_ creatures that rain Hel upon their victims in merciless cold blood - nothing else.

 

So then why hadn’t that damned dragon killed me when she’d had the chance?

 

And _why, why?!_ \- when she hadn’t attacked - hadn’t I taken the chance to kill her?

 

I sigh, laying down on my bed as I drape my furs over me. Where I would once feel comfort in the action, I instead feel cornered and anxious, and I immediately throw the furs off of me and onto the waiting ground below. They land with a silent _thump,_ leaving the cold night air from outsides to seep through the cracks in between the wood of the hut and brush against my exposed skin. I grit my teeth, holding back a shiver as I close my eyes and force myself to welcome sleep.

 

Thankfully, this time, no nightmares come.

 

It feels like only a second passes before my azure irises snap open once more, bright and glittering as they reflect the sudden sunlight streaming in through my window. Wisps of exhaustion cling to my bones like the aftereffects of ale, but I shake them off, throwing my legs over the side of my bed as I reach under my pillow and grab my axe. My usual morning routine is quick and efficient, and soon enough I’m out the door and heading towards the Great Hall.

 

The village square is already bustling with viking life, and I have to dodge more than a few people as they wheel carts and barrels of supplies down to the docks. I start make my way up the steps to the Hall, my axe swinging dangerously at my side as the tips of the blade glint like silver blood. The doors to the Hall are already pushed wide open to allow the cool breezes from outside inside, and I walk right passed them.

 

The sound of low chatter and the banging of cups being set down on the wooden tables harshly makes my eyes flicker from side to side, my senses numbly alert. Usually, it would be louder, but ever since well over half the village left in search of the Dragon’s Nest, the noise level on Berk has seemingly died down a notch. I gather my food and look for somewhere to eat. When I notice the other teens sitting at a particular table, I gather myself and head over to them.

 

The twins take no notice as I near them, and instead Tuffnut throws a devoured chicken leg at his sister for something that she’d said when I was too far away to hear. “ Hey! ” Ruffnut yells, angry. She latches onto the horns of her brother’s helmet, and soon enough the two of them are rolling around on the ground, their food forgotten. I roll my eyes as I set my food down next to where’d they’d been, secretly hoping that Snotlout will be like the two teens and miss my arrival.

 

Unfortunately, the gods don’t grant everyone’s wishes.

 

“ Astrid! ” The black haired boy yells, surprised, before his expression turns into one of cockiness. “ I knew you’d come back to me - not even _you_ can ignore all this…” He gestures to himself as he lifts an arm and kisses his own bicep. “ Manliness. ” I hide my clenching jaw behind the lip of my mug as I force myself to take a small sip of mead, when I feel like the arrogant teen isn’t in immediately danger of tasting my fist, I reply. “ Watch me. ”

 

For a split second, he deflates at the shootdown, but then goes back to his usual self a moment later. Tearing a piece of meat off of the chicken leg I was served, I bite into it, and for the first time I notice Fishlegs out of the corner of my eye. Usually, he’s the first one I notice, since he’s constantly rambling on and on about facts and statistics about dragons that none of us could even begin to understand, but not today.

 

I narrow my sapphire eyes in confusion, wondering why he’s being so quiet. The husky blonde is turned away from the rest of his fellow teens, and is instead gazing at the entrance to the Great Hall with an odd contemplating look on his face. I dart my gaze over to the ajar doors too, just to see what’s caught his attention so fiercely, and am greeting by the sight of the Chief’s son quietly entering the Hall.

 

I don’t scowl, don’t roll my eyes, or turn away - instead, I opt to just watch him. He walks in slowly, cautiously, as if he’s waiting for a dragon to leap out and kill him at any moment. I wince at the thought, but shove it away a moment later. The auburn haired boy’s gaze darts everywhere as he walks towards the serving table and takes a plate, finding the table tucked away in the farthest corner before he sits down and tucks into his meal.

 

I blink, something that feels a lot like sympathy stirring deep inside my chest, making my insides twist viciously. “ He’s not a bad person. ” I’m yanked away from my thoughts at the voice, and I turn my head to the side to look at Fishlegs, blinking in surprise at his words. The green eyed blonde looks down at his food, before he casts a cautious glance back up at me. “ He’s creative, and smart. He makes all kinds of amazing things in the forge. ”

 

For a split second, he looks down at my axe, and then back at me. “ It’s just that no one ever notices. ” I open my mouth to respond, curious and a little bit irked, but before I can speak a loud _slam_ and _bang_ sounds right before a giant force crashes into me. My breath leaves my lungs for a split second, before the memories of countless practice routines and exercise drills kick in. I twist around, digging my hands into the ground in an attempt to grip something.

 

My nails catch a groove, giving just enough resistance for me to throw my elbow out and catch myself. I roll a few feet away, just to make sure I’m out of danger, before I swiftly stand up. My palm hovers a few inches over the handle of my axe, ready for anything, but falls limp at my sides once more when I realize what’d crashed into me. Berk’s only set of twins are twisted and spread all over the bench where I’d just been sitting, their bodies bent in odd angles as Ruffnut groans.

 

Tuffnut copies his sister’s moans of pain as he cups his head in his palms, trying to straighten his helmet and get back onto his feet at the same time. “ What happened? ” Almost as soon as he speaks, his female counterpart jumps up, wobbling unsteadily as she punches him in the shoulder. “ You muttonhead! You knocked us into the bench. ” He blinks, casting a glance down at the broken seat as he hums in confusion. “ Hmmm, weird. I don’t remember that being there before. ”

 

His sister scowls, as do I. Everyone else in the Great Hall only looks over their shoulders to see what the ruckus is all about, before noticing the two of them standing next to the ruined structure. It only takes a second for the dots to connect and for their eyes to shine with annoyed realization, before they look away and go back to their own meals. I do the same, except now I move to the other side of the table, which means I get to sit next to Fishlegs.

 

I set my food down, staring at the blonde for a second, and then sit down. My eyes continue to burn holes into his back, but if he takes any notice, he doesn’t show it. Apparently, our previous conversation is over. I try to shrug it off and go back to my meal, but his words echo inside of my head, forcing me to mull them over. _He’s not that bad?_ I frown. _Well of course he’s not that bad, he’s just...Hiccup._ That’s the excuse for everything.

 

He’s just a Hiccup.

 

Just a runt.

 

Just weak.

 

And nobody cares about the weak ones.

 

Nobody cares about _him._

 

The thought stings me more than it should, and I outwardly flinch at the harsh words, earning myself an odd look from Snotlout and a concerned one from Fishlegs. I force myself not to look at them, and instead take a big gulp of my drink, my throat stinging as the thick liquid burns like fire as it slides down my gullet. My eyes try to find the lanky teen, but when they land on where I’d last seen him, all that’s left is a discarded plate and mug.

 

For a second, I wonder where he’s gone off to this time - for a second, I contemplate tracking him down and following him, but I don’t. Instead, I stay where I am: sitting at a table, surrounded by teenagers who I don’t even know that well, eating a piece of chicken and occasionally sipping on some mead. I force myself not to think about the auburn haired boy with green eyes for the rest of breakfast, and soon enough, he’s off of my mind completely.

 

After a while, Ruffnut and Tuffnut stop bickering and start eating their food. The peace only lasts so long though, and soon enough they start pretending their chicken leg bones are swords and they begin sparring with one another. I roll my eyes, but continue eating nonetheless. I listen as Fishlegs mutters excitedly under his breath to Snotlout about something, probably dragons, and the black haired boy just replies with an occasional grunt, looking bored.

 

I’m just about to stack my dishes and leave the Hall when Gobber hobbles passed the open doors, his eyes squinted as he looks around the room. Once his eyes land on us, he gives a sudden cheery “ Aha! ” and quickly makes his way over to our table. When he spots the tussling twins he mumbles under his breath and then shouts at them. “ You two are gonna kill each other before we even get to the dangerous stuff! ”

 

At this, the two freeze, their limbs tangled and Tuffnut’s head being shoved back by Ruffnut’s invading arm. “ Death? ” He mumbles out, his eyes gleaming. “ Danger ? ” Echoes Ruffnut, her grin wicked. They spare each other a glance before they simultaneously reply. “ Destruction! ” Something that sounds a lot like, “ Odin help me. ” comes tumbling out of the Dragon Training Instructor’s mouth before he turns to look at the rest of us.

 

“ I see you’re all done with breakfast. Put away your dishes and then head over to the arena. ” Right as Gobber finishes talking, Snotlout jumps up and slams his hands down on the table, making his plate go flying. “ Yes! It’s about time - I can’t keep that Nightmare waiting too long, right babe? ” He wiggles his eyebrows at me, flexing his arms as his eyes gleam. I reach around Fishlegs and slam my fist into the Jorgenson boy’s shoulder, making him yelp.

 

The blacksmith ignores all of this and continues on as if he were never interrupted. “ Alright, that’s enough of that, let’s get over to the Kill Ring! And then the fun will really begin. ” He gives a wheezy little chuckle before he turns around and hobbes back towards the entrance of the Great Hall, humming something under his breath as his axe prophetic swings at his sides merrily. I cock an eyebrow at his retreating figure.

 

Sometime’s that man worries me.

 

Internally shrugging it off, I stack my dishes and follow Gobber, barely listening to the ruckus behind me as Snotlout trips over his own two feet in his haste to catch up to me. Ruffnut and Tuffnut rush past me and our Instructor as they shove away at each other, trying to see who can get to the arena faster. I almost wince as Ruffnut shoves her brother forward, leaving the male twin to slip down the steps.

 

His helmet crashes and clanks against the stone stairs as he lets out various yells of pain, each one earning a loud snicker from his sister, and a bellowing laugh from Snotlout. Once I reach the top of the staircase I peek over the edge, my eyebrows knitting together in a rare show of sympathy as I look down at the injured teen. His limbs are splayed everywhere, with his helmet a few feet away from his head and a boot twisted off of his foot.

 

He let’s out a groan of pain and looks up at us. “ I am hurt, I am _very_ much hurt! ” At this, he lets his head fall back down against the ground and just continues to lay there. Oceanic irises dart to the side as I catch sight of the village blacksmith rolling his eyes, before he starts down the steps. I follow him, along with the rest of the teens, and once we get to where Tuffnut is, our Instructor reaches down and pulls the male twin back onto his feet in one hefty lift.

 

“ The world’s spinning! The world’s spinning! ” The lanky blonde yells, holding out his hand as if to steady himself. His sister goes up behind him and picks up his helmet, plopping it down on his head with an odd look in her eyes. I tilt my head to the side. _Weird, it’s almost as if she’s acting...affectionate._ I blink, surprised. Ruffnut Thorston is many things, but _affectionate_ is not one of them. I mull over the thought for a while before discarding it.

 

I guess for all their faults and Loki-ish tendencies, the two _are still siblings._

 

Deep down, they probably really do care about each other.

 

I’m pulled from my thoughts as Tuffnut suddenly pipes up, completely fine, as he curls his hands into excited fists and turns to face his sister. “ Oh my Loki, that was _awesome!_ Do it again! ” Ruffnut’s eyes widen for a split second, before she gives a devilish grin. I almost groan. _Way to ruin the moment guys._ “ Gladly. ” The female twin replies, taking him by the horns on his helmet as she starts leading him back up the stairs. “ Nuh uh uh. ” Gobber grunts, shaking his head.

 

“ If you haven’t forgotten - we’re going to _Dragon Training!_ ” The twins groan in disappointment, but follow him anyway. Gravel crackles and pops under my boots with each step, filling the air around us to mix in with the hustle and bustle of the daily viking life. I watch as two parents lead their children towards the markets, stumbling and grumbling under their breath as the husband and wife share knowing, exhausted glances.

 

A smile twitches at the corner of my lips as they walk right by me, shouting at their kids. “ Hey, slow down would ya? Wait - Ragnor! No! No… hey! - _put that sheep down!_ ” The village square is even more full of people, and a few of them give a cheery wave. We stop a few times as Gobber gets distracted with catching up with a few friends, making Snotlout grumble hotly each time, but soon enough we start crossing the bridge that leads to the arena.

 

The wood squeaks and teeters with each of our steps, making a few planks groan under our combined weight. Fishlegs leans towards me, his eyes scanning the misted waves sloshing around well over a hundred feet below us nervously. “ Uh, I’m not so sure it’s safe to have _all of us_ on this bridge at the _same time._ ” Gobber looks back at the husky blonde with a cocked eyebrow, but doesn’t reply. “ How old did you say this bridge was? ”

 

Snotlout rolls his eyes as Ruff and Tuff rush past him, knocking into his shoulders as he curses at them with a waving fist. The blacksmith grabs both twins by the backs of their shirts with his one good hand, and chuckles at the Ingerman boy. “ I didn’t. ” Of course the answer doesn’t serve to calm him down any, and if anything, Fishlegs begins to fidget and walk faster, letting out little squeaks of fear every time the bridge sways.

 

When we reach the Kill Ring, Gobber opens the gate with a grunt and then turns towards us with a scraggly smile. “ Alright, as you know, next week we move on to a _different_ dragon! For now though, this is your last day with the Deadly Nadder, and I have a _special_ lesson planned! ” As he’s speaking, a small figure peeps out from behind him. I blink in surprise, just able to make out a messy head of auburn hair matched with a bright pair of forest green irises.

 

Apparently, Snotlout spots him too, because not a second later he starts complaining. “ Oh great! Useless is back, wonder how bad things’ll go this time! ” He ends his sentence with a taunting cackle, looking over his shoulder at the others in search for their agreement. The twins don’t respond, too immersed in a ‘staring contest of death’ as they gaze at each other, unblinking, and occasionally try to poke at each other’s eyes with the horns of their helmets.

 

Realizing that the two won’t be any help, the Jorgenson boy looks over to Fishlegs. The husky blonde looks reluctant to agree with his fellow male teen, but when Snotlout curls his hand into a fist at his side - an obvious threat - the green eyed blonde has no choice but to nod vigorously. Blue eyes flicker sideways, just barely managing to catch sight of Hiccup as his entire body deflates - the lights in his eyes flickering out - before he swaths over it with his typical sarcasm.

 

“ Oh I don’t know - maybe the dragon will eat you. ” He rolls his eyes and then mutters the rest under his breath, speaking just quiet enough so that Snotlout can’t hear him. “ Wouldn’t that just be _tragic?_ ” I try to hold back a laugh - I _really_ do - but all I manage is to clench my jaw tightly as a quiet huff of amusement escapes me. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Hiccup as he whips his head to the side, staring at me wide eyes.

 

Snotlout gives me a confused look, switching his gaze back and forth between me and the young Haddock, before he harrumphs angrily and kicks his cousin in the shins. I ignore them both, and instead turn to look back at Gobber. “ Alright, enter the arena, all of ya - that’s it. Now, let’s begin! ” The gate to the Kill Ring closes noisily behind us, and I listen as the blacksmith hobbles along the outer wall of the arena so he can look down at us.

 

“ Alright, today we’re gonna play a little game I like to call Hide-And-Seek! ” There’s a swift pause, before, “ _What?_ We’re playing a stupid _game?_ ” sounds Snotlout’s quick complaint. “ Shh! ” I hiss at him. I’ve heard stories from older vikings of the Hide-And-Seek game Gobber had made them go through when they were still in training, and judging from the memories of their tales, it’s actually not as easy as it sounds.

 

The Dragon Training Instructor just rolls his eyes and scratches at his metal tooth. “ _Aaaaaaand_ let’s begin. ” Gobber pulls a lever next to him, unbarring the doors to the Deadly Nadder’s enclosure as it bursts free. Immediately, it lets out a deafening roar, its head cocking sideways as its wings flare out above its head. I duck down, darting across the arena and towards the weapons rack. I rush by it, picking out a random blue and yellow blazoned shield as I do so.

 

A hiss sounds from behind me, and I tuck my shield closer to my side with no hesitation, ducking down to roll across the harsh stone floor. Not a second later, the sound of fire bursting and crackling fills my ears, hot air and flames shooting right over my head before licking at the area I’d just been standing at. I grunt as I propel myself upwards at the end of my next roll, quickly hopping to my feet as I dart back and forth on the ball’s of my heel, trying to stay in it’s blind spot.

 

The beast cocks its head my way, snapping its beak together menacingly, before suddenly turning on its tail and screeching at Fishlegs. The husky teen screams, gripping his hammer with both his hands as it shakes violently in his grasp. The second the Deadly Nadder moves to take a step forward, the boy throws up his arms in defeat, making a hasty exit from the Kill Ring. I barely spare his retreating figure a glance as the dragon starts looking for a new target.

 

The creature flaps its wings, spewing fire at the twins. They both yelp, before grinning and trying to see who can get closest to the dragon without getting killed. I almost don’t care enough to scowl at their actions. Almost. Without thinking, I tighten my grip on the smooth and worn handle of my axe, beating the head of it against the metal rimming of my shield. The force reverberates throughout the steel casing, making my palms tingle, but the effect is worth it.

 

With a startled squawk and a grimacing jerk of its head, the Deadly Nadder starts thrusting its head around, its tail lashing out behind it like an agitated eel. The others start copying me, banging their own weapons against anything around them that’s metal. I almost feel a sense of accomplishment, before Gobber ruins my mood. “ No no no! You’re doing it all wrong. It’s called _Hide-And-Seek_ \- you hide, ” He chuckles cheekily. “ the dragon seeks. ”

 

 _More like tries to hunt us down and maul us to death._ I force the thought away, begrudgingly pulling my axe away from my shield to halt the banging. Ruffnut and Tuffnut do the same without thought, suddenly bickering with each other under their breaths, probably about something stupid again. Snotlout though, refuses to listen. “ No way! I am _not_ giving that _thing_ a chance to mess up all _this._ ” He strikes a quick pose while flexing his arms.

 

Next to me, I can hear Hiccup groan and mutter something under his breath nastily. I blink, slightly startled. I have to admit, I’d almost forgotten he was even here. As if knowing that I’m looking at him, the copper tressed boy turns to look my way, his freckled cheeks dusting a bashful pink when his forest green orbs lock with mine. Some part of me wants to roll my eyes at him, and I do, but without the malice the action would’ve held if it had been directed at his cousin.

 

“ Where are they suppose to hide though? ” A voice pipes up next to Gobber, and I briefly lock gazes with Fishlegs. He’s standing next to the Dragon Training Instructor, his hands folded together in front of his face anxiously. The blacksmith looks slightly bored at everything happening before him, but then perks up at the boy’s question. “ That’s just it! ” He yells gleefully, grabbing all of our attention. He gives a toothy grin. “ You can’t! ”

 

“ Can’t what?! ” Snotlout shouts hotly, still banging his hammer against his shield’s edge, yet there’s a hint of fear in his tone. I notice that it’s because the Deadly Nadder is slowly but surely recovering from its previous unbalancement, Snotlout’s banging not enough to do anything more than annoy it. When Gobber doesn’t give him an immediate answer, he starts slamming the two objects together harder and faster, lines of nervousness splitting across his face.

 

Gobber snorts, before answering. “ Hide. You didn’t actually think I’d be teaching you how to _hide_ did ya? ” He laughed. “ You’re job is to _avoid_ the dragon. You can’t attack it, even if it attacks you. Last one standing wins. ” That’s it, that’s all the explanation he gives, and now we’re on our own. Snotlout lets out a disbelieving cry, but stops banging his hammer against his shield nonetheless, finally realizing that it wasn’t doing much good anyway.

 

Shaking its head one more time, the Nadder gives a deafening squawk, its nostrils flaring as its wings ruffle at its sides menacingly. I grit my teeth, crouching down low as I ready myself for anything. The beast cocks its head: right, left, right, before lurching forward and heading for the twins. Ruffnut and Tuffnut don’t notice, too busy grinding their helmets against one another’s to notice the giant dragon heading their way.

 

“ Ruff, Tuff - move! ” I yell, darting behind the dragon’s lashing tail to get close enough to the two so that they can hear me. They do. Almost in sync, they let out a befuddled, “Huh?” before they both turn to finally look at the Deadly Nadder heading their way. They give a weird mix between a holler and a whoop, before splitting off. For a second, their horns tangle together, locking them in place. I hold my breath in slight fear, before releasing it when the horns slip free.

 

Tuffnut makes a run towards the left of the Kill Ring, circling around the dragon and ducking under its wing in the process. He lets out a crazy laugh as the Nadder’s razor tipped claw attached to the point of its wing just barely grazes the top of his helmet, leaving a scratch mark streaking through the top two crooked horns. Ruffnut darts towards the right side of the arena, running around the Nadder closer than what could be considered safe.

 

Then again, we’re _vikings._

 

Safe isn’t really in our vocabulary.

 

“ Get out of the way you muttonheads! ” Snotlout yells hotly, standing as far away from the fighting as possible for all his bravado. I ignore them all, instead focusing on keeping out of the dragon’s line of sight. There’re two ways to do that: either stay behind it or stay in its blind spot, both having their equal upsides and downsides. Staying behind it is safer, but you have to move faster than the creature. Plus, when dealing with a Nadder, you really have to watch the tail.

 

On the other hand, sticking to its blind spot doesn’t require as much movement - just jumping back and forth in front of its face. The only downside is that it can decide to blast fire at any time, and when it comes to that you either get lucky or you get dead. I stick with the first option. The beast roars in agitation, jerking its head up and down as it tries to get a full view of the arena. I duck down low, making sure to move opposite of its tail.

 

The spines littering the limb are erect and protruding, sticking out so far that their roots are slightly visible. They twitch and prickle ever so often, the tips gleaming and almost as sharp as the slits the Deadly Nadder keeps glaring at the other teens with. Finally becoming annoyed with the lack of action, the dragon slams one paw down against the rough ground of the Kill Ring, charging at Snotlout not a second later.

 

The young Jorgenson lets out a terrified yelp, trying to duck away to avoid getting hit by the beast. He moves not a second too late, just managing to miss getting speared by the handful of spines the dragon shoots his way. Instead, they imbed deep into the stone wall, leaving spiderweb fractures in the stone surrounding each punctured area. Snotlout curses loudly before he swings his weapon in the general direction of the creature, running away.

 

Out of the corner of my eye I notice a flash of color, and I tilt my head sideways, trying to see what’s caught my attention while also keeping the Deadly Nadder in my vision. The object is no other than Hiccup, his entire body hidden behind his shield as his eyes barely peek over its steel rimming. As he catches my eye, his forest green irises go wide, before he pops his head over the cover of his shield to give me a halfhearted lopsided grin.

 

I blink, confused. We’re in the Kill Ring, being hunted by a dragon that _we can’t even fight against,_ and yet he’s sparing valuable seconds to throw a _smile_ my way? I want to punch him, but some part of my annoyance can’t help but flare with amusement. Against my better judgement, I shake my head with a slight scowl, before it fixes into a small smile. This time, it’s Hiccup turn to blink in surprise.

 

He stands there, baffled, and I push my attention back onto the Deadly Nadder before the situation can get anymore awkward. The beast trills loudly, cocking its head to the side, before it swivels around to face me. I jump back, cursing my lack of focus. The dragon only seems to growl in victory, the spines adorning the top of its skull quivering and twitching in anticipation. It’s found its new source of prey: me.

 

The creature parts it maw widely, fire leaping from its throat out towards me. “Astrid!” The yell is distant - slightly faint - and I ignore it in favor of dodging the flames. I thrust my shield forward while ducking down, the force of the fire pushing me back. I go with the movement, thrusting myself backwards as I do a quick roll. The Deadly Nadder chases after me, trying to pin me down with its claws.

 

I dodge its attacks, thrusting out the butt of my axe to slam it against the dragon’s soft underbelly. It screeches in pain, jolting backwards as it crouches down and tucks its wings against its sides, trying to hide its stomach. I roll over and push myself to my feet, widening the distance between me and the Deadly Nadder. It watches me with narrowed eyes, its pupils slitted as it whips its tail up and over its head, shooting a single spine my way.

 

I hide my frame behind my shield while slashing my axe forward, listening as metal clashes with bone. I cringe at the _s_ _creak_ the collision emanates, but don’t pull my weapon back. The spine splinters and cracks on impact, before bouncing off the blade and shooting off somewhere else in the arena. The Nadder squawks in agitation, miffed at my deflection of its assault. I merely twirl my weapon in my hand, narrowing my eyes at the beast.

 

It snorts, nostrils flaring, before screeching loudly at something. It twirls around, spewing fire blindly. The creature moves so fast that I almost don’t notice the small dagger embedded deep into its left leg. The actual blade is only a couple inches in, but the wound is deep enough to cause slow trickles of blood to start dribbling down the side of its leg. I huff in surprise, eyes darting to look for any of the other teens.

 

The twins are off to the side, completely sprawled across the floor and too engrossed in a fist fight to notice anything of what’s going on around them. Snotlout is...nowhere to be seen, actually. I look around for him for a few seconds, before giving up. Casting my eyes back on the Deadly Nadder, my gaze lands on the only other person in the Kill Ring: Hiccup. My mind takes a moment to process the discovery, before it connects the pieces.

 

Hiccup’s the only person close enough to have struck the dragon.

 

He’s the only one who even _carries_ an hidden dagger in his tunic.

 

He broke the rules to try and protect me.

 

Skepticism creeps through me at the last thought, but everything else fits. Hiccup the Useless actually _did_ something. Something inside my stomach curls at the thought, but the corners of my lips tilt upwards in slight pride. _Well well well, look who has a backbone after all Snotface._ I direct my thought towards Snotlout, remembering every time he’d ever scrutinized and downgraded his cousin as the weak coward everyone thinks he is.

 

My head’s pulled out of the clouds as the Deadly Nadder snaps its beak like maw at Hiccup, causing the boy to yelp and jump out of the way just in the knick of time. “ Hiccup! ” I look up at the sound of Gobber’s voice, carried from just outside the arena where he’s clutching at the chains circling the top of the Kill Ring. “ Get out of there! ” The blacksmith’s face turns pale and his eyes fill with a rare concern as his words go unheard.

 

I whip my gaze back towards the heir of Berk, dread consuming my entire body as I watch him dart and dodge around the dragon. His small size gives him speed, but people call him a _klutz_ for a reason. The moment he takes his next step, he slips on a pebble that catches his boot, releasing a loud yelp before he crashes and falls flat on his back. Hiccup groans, his hand absentmindedly raising to clutch the back of his head.

 

When he pulls it back, there’s crimson liquid coating his palm. The Deadly Nadder perks up at the sight, its nostrils flaring as it takes in the scent of its prey’s blood. “ Great Odin. ” I murmur to myself, eyes slightly wide. The sight of the auburn haired teen in danger sends a shot of panic through me, before my instincts kick in and an idea starts forming itself inside of my head. “ Ruff, Tuff, Snot! ” I yell out, catching their attention.

 

I gesture them over with a quick jerk of my shield. They come running. “ All right, ” I immediately snap out, wasting no time. “ We need a plan to get Hiccup out of there before he gets killed. ” Snotlout opens his mouth to complain, his eyes already rolling, before a cry of pain cuts him off. We all whip our heads in the direction of Hiccup, hearts dropping when we catch sight of him. He’s pinned underneath the Deadly Nadder’s paw, the claws surrounding him like a cage.

 

I narrow my eyes, teeth grit. “ Alright scratch that, we don’t have time for a plan. You two, ” I snap at the twins, locking my calculating orbs with their own gleaming ones. “ Go! Do what you do best - piss it off - and keep it occupied long enough for me and Snotlout to grab Hiccup. ” They share a wicked grin, nodding at me, before shooting off towards the Deadly Nadder. Watching them go, I can’t help but think, _Gods I hope I didn’t just send them off to their deaths._

 

The worry is short lived as Ruffnut lets out a holler, waving her arms widely to catch the dragon’s attention. The Deadly Nadder jerks to the side at the noise, cocking its head as its wings ruffle and stretch wide at its sides. “ Here dragon, dragon, dragon! ” Ruffnut yells, snickering. “ Get yourself a tasty Ruffnut! ” Tuffnut suddenly appears on the beast’s other side. “ No! ” He shouts, posing. “ _I’m_ better tasting - a spicier flavor, if you will. ”

 

I groan under my breath, turning towards Snotlout. “ As soon as those two lead the Nadder away, we get in there, get Hiccup, and then get out. ” He nods, but then shrugs. “ Well I mean we _could,_ or we could go back to my place and...you know. ” He wiggles his eyebrows at me. I punch him, scowling. “ This is _serious_ Snotlout! ” He raises one hand in defeat, the other clutching his now bloody nose. “ Okay, fine. Geez, we’ll save my cousin if it makes you so happy. ”

 

I almost raise my fist to throw another swing, but a shout from both of the twins cuts me off just as I’m raising my arm. “ Yes! I can’t believe that worked! ” I turn around, not _totally_ elighted by what I see. Ruff and Tuff are both running around in circles, weaving and dodging around one another as the Nadder snaps at them, trying to follow their fast movements with darting eyes. _Well at least it’s not trying to kill Hiccup anymore._ I think to myself.

 

Taking the opportunity, I gesture for Snotlout to follow me before quickly skirting around the back of the dragon, keeping away from its sharp eyesight as I reach for Hiccup. The boy jerks away as I touch his shoulder, his arms drawn up in front of his face with the rest of his body curled into a tight ball. The feeble sight almost makes me pity him, but I push the emotion away. Instead, I grasp his arm and tug him to his feet roughly.

 

“ Come on Hiccup, move! ” I yell at him, making his eyes snap open in surprise. For a split second he just stares at me, something about his gaze both curious and cautious. My skin prickles under his scrutiny uncomfortably, making me clench my jaw in agitation. I break the tense atmosphere by tugging on his arm once more, turning around to drag him back to the entrance of the Kill Ring without a word.

 

“ Ack! ” Hiccup yells, tripping over his own two feet. I look back over my shoulder. “ One in front of the other Haddock. ” I muttered, just loud enough for him and no one else to hear me. His cheeks flush a dull pink, eyes staring pointedly at the ground. I almost laugh at the sight, but force myself to focus on getting him to safety. When we reach the barred arena doors Gobber is already there waiting for us, waving us forward with one hand while the other holds open the gate.

 

“ Snotlout, ” I call towards the Jorgenson’s direction, not bothering to see if he’s actually listening to me. “ Go with them - I’ll stay to round up the twins. ” Out of the corner of my eye, I think I see him throwing me an absentminded nod, but I’m already running back into the arena. Someone calls after me, but I don't listen. Ruffnut and Tuffnut are still trying to avoid the dragon, but they’re starting to look a little nervous as each attack becomes a closer call than the previous one.

 

I stop just short of the Deadly Nadder, cupping my hands around my mouth. “ Guys, get out of there! We got Hiccup, let’s go! ” Hearing my words, they both make a desperate run for the gate. I follow a few steps behind them, using myself as a distraction for the dragon so that they can get away. The beast leaps at me, but I dart sideways, slipping underneath its wing as I run for the Kill Ring’s entrance.

 

“ Start closing it! ” I yell above the Deadly Nadder’s furious screeching, pumping my legs faster. Gobber nods, throwing the gate down and leaving just a small enough gap for me to slip through. Hiccup pops out from behind him a second later, his eyes wide and mouth agape. “ What? No way! ” He yells, turning towards Gobber when he sees that the blacksmith has already lowered the bars. “ Gobber! ”

 

The Dragon Training Instructor just shakes his head at his apprentice, shushing him. Six pairs of eyes turn to watch me, mouths pursed and eyes wide. I steel myself, throwing a quick glance over my shoulder. _Odin’s ghost._ I curse to myself when I see that the beast is only a few feet behind me, wings flapping and tail whipping around madly. I run faster. The dragon’s hot breath brushes against the back of my neck, making goosebumps rise across my skin.

 

Just as I reach the others I lean back and throw myself downwards, gritting my teeth as the hard stone floor bites and tears at the skin of my arms. I just bite my lip and slip through the opening, cringing as the bars slam down behind me immediately after. The Nadder squawks in alarm as it collides with the gate, crashing to the ground at the force of the impact. I don’t move - only listen as it stands back up and shakes itself off, throwing a final screech our way before walking off.

 

Hiccup flops down next to me, eyes forward even as he tilts his head in my direction. He speaks but I don’t hear his words, for some reason they’re...muffled. I give a stiff nod of agreement though, lips pursed tightly. My whole body is shivering and shaking, wracked with adrenaline and fear, even as I try to force myself to keep utterly still. Suddenly, a large hand presses down against my shoulder, grabbing my attention.

 

I look up, eyes locking with Gobber’s own. He says something - probably asking if I’m okay by the way his eyebrows are furrowed in concern - but I can’t hear him either. The only sound I can hear is the blood pounding in my ears, thrumming alongside the rapid beating of my heart. I shake his hand away, muttering a low, “ I’m fine. ” at him before turning around and walking out of the Kill Ring’s entrance.

 

I can only imagine the others sharing dubious glances with one another as they watch my retreating figure. I clench my hands at my sides and force the thought away. I take in a deep breath, focusing on the expanding of my lungs and the sting of my throat as I breathe in the chilly air of Berk. _In. Out. In. Out. Come on Hofferson, you’re better than this._ I scold myself, hating this helpless feeling eating away at the inside of my chest.

 

I’m snapped out of my stupor as the other teens suddenly surround me, Ruff and Tuff accidently knocking their shoulders against mine. I give them a slight scowl, but ignore them as Hiccup appears at my side. He looks nervous, with his eyes darting from side to side and his hands swingly awkwardly at his sides. I keep silent, waiting for him to say something. Giving me a quick glance, he clears his throat and tilts his head downwards, as if embarrassed.

 

“ Look uh, I just wanted to say...thank you? ” I lift an eyebrow. “ Was that a statement or a question? ” He flushes again, and I blink as, for the first time, I notice how much he blushes when he’s around me. _Odd._ He straightens up slightly, looking me in the eye. “ A statement. ” I nod at him, turning away to look ahead. Seeing that our conversation is over, he rambles something under his breath about how he’s late for something and then runs off.

 

After that, I distance myself from the others and look out across the ocean. Jagged sea stacks are sprinkled amongst the blue waves, shrouded by mist and fog as vines of moss and leaves marr the sides. Sapphire irises squint, just barely managing to make out a few brown spots in the distance: fishing boats, already hard at work restocking the food storage for the upcoming winter. Almost unconsciously, my gaze is drawn past all that and towards the vacant side of the island.

 

The forest.

 

Without my consent, my hand goes to grip the handle of my axe at the sight, making my fingernails dig into the worn leather and leave faint imprints. The action reminds me of the fact that I haven’t been out training in a while. It’s been six days since my blade last sunk into the rich wood of a tree - six long days, since I last saw that dragon. My footsteps falter at the thought, but I keep walking, making sure to keep my eyes ahead of me this time.

 

I haven’t stepped into the forest every since that day. Every time I do, my mind strays to the memory of the dragon, and the possibility of me seeing it again. It’s at that point that I always force myself to turn back - away from the forest - away from that creature. _You don’t even know if it’s still in there, it probably flew away!_ I chide myself, scowling at the thought. It’s true, it probably _had_ flown away - back to its Nest - but I can’t be sure.

 

And the only way I can be, is to go back into the forest and check. My heart starts thumping harder at the thought, forcing me to take in deeper breaths. I can’t help the vivid memories of my nightmare that spring forth onto my brain, but I shake my head as if shrugging them away. _A Hofferson fears_ nothing. Besides, it’s been far too long since I last practiced, I can’t be slacking off if I want to come out on top at Dragon Training.

 

_But do you really?_

 

The little voice buried deep in the back of my head whispers again, resurfacing for the first time since the night I had gathered with the other Dragon Trainees at Berk’s watch tower. _Of course I do!_ To win Dragon Training is the _only way_ that I can bring back honor to the Hofferson clan. The thought revolves around me for the rest of the day, solidating me, giving me purpose - until it doesn’t matter if some part of me - _deep down_ \- _doesn’t want_ to hurt the dragon.

 

Because the next time I see that devil, I _will_ kill it.

 

And I’ll bring back it’s heart as poof.


End file.
